


Clickbait

by SocialDeception



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental drunk, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie is oblivious, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Online Dating, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDeception/pseuds/SocialDeception
Summary: Dating wasn't easy. Eddie knew that only too well. And technology? Even worse.So what could possibly go wrong when combining the two?





	1. Eddie

**Author's Note:**

> While writing on The Beauty of the Cage, I've also been writing on this one. A fluffier counterpart, if you will ;)

It was just a computer.

That was what Eddie told himself as he stared at the monstrosity on his once-pristine desk. It was the latest model, or so he had been told, but it still looked clunky and out of place.

He sighed and sat down, trailing one finger carefully along the side of the thing. Frank, who Eddie up to an hour ago had considered his closest friend, had given it to Eddie with a stern instruction to join him in the twenty-first century. Some birthday present it had turned out to be; So far, all the thing had accomplished was giving Eddie a headache.

All of it was so terribly drab, and Eddie couldn’t imagine what everyone saw in the thing. But, working with clothing, Eddie was somewhat beholden to trends, and supposedly this thing could make bookkeeping simpler. Somehow he doubted that was what Frank had in mind, though.

Eddie had already made himself a cup of tea, which he let cool next to the laptop despite Frank’s equally stern instruction that Eddie kept it far away from the electronic device. Eddie scoffed. It wasn’t like he was a child.

He opened the lid of the laptop, staring at the dark screen. Bewildered and a little afraid he got the note Frank had left with the laptop, reading over the instructions again while trying to ignore the grease stains Frank had left behind on the paper. It seemed easy enough. Push the uppermost button. Right.

It hadn’t said how long to press it, so Eddie held it down until the whole machine started making a high pitched whizzing sound. Eddie startled and retreated his finger in terror, only to be met with the brand of the laptop flashing across the screen as it started up. Right, Frank had written that this would happen.

The machine made a happy little chirp, followed by a not so happy whir, as a ribbon of bright colors appeared. Eddie was left speechless for a small moment, staring at the vibrancy of it. It was so bright and _loud_ , if colors indeed could be loud at all. He blinked at the icons on the screen, feeling utterly lost. Frank had said he’d be over later to help him, but Eddie felt a need to show that he could do this on his own. Well, sort of. Eddie squinted down on the piece of paper again.

It said to access everything through a mouse, which felt weird under Eddie’s fingers. Or perhaps it was his hands that suddenly felt large and clumsy, either way he didn’t like it. He moved it towards the icon that said internet, and clicked it.

Except nothing happened.

Eddie huffed and peered down at the paper again. Frank wrote to double click with the left button and- Eddie shook his head. This was ridiculous. He promptly shut the laptop lid and wandered off to his living room instead. Enjoying his tea near the window sounded much better.  


* * *

  
“Okay, see here?” Frank patiently pointed to a small icon in the lower right corner. “I’ve gotten your router sorted out, so all ya gotta do is connect to it.”

Eddie was seated in his chair, while Frank stood next to him, leaning down to watch the screen and talk entirely too close to Eddie’s ear. Eddie stared blankly at the screen, but tried to do as he asked. On a drop-down list of names were-

“‘Eddie’s old’?” Eddie asked, looking up at Frank.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Frank snickered and patted Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay, connect to that one.”

Eddie stared as small dots flew over the screen, and after a beat it informed him that a connection had been formed.

“Congratulations, my man,” Frank patted Eddie’s shoulder again, but harder this time. “You’re now officially a twenty-first century man.”

“Whoop-dee-do,” Eddie murmured, still staring at where it said he was connected. “Now what?”

“Now-” Frank said, and double clicked something. “-the world’s your oyster. Whatcha into, huh?”

Eddie creased his forehead, but didn’t respond.

Frank didn’t notice his expression, but continued, “Cuz I know of those really good cam-sites, man, and-” He trailed off while tapping rapidly on the keyboard.

“Perhaps I could talk to people?” Eddie looked up at Frank. “Isn’t that a thing?”

It was Frank’s turn to crease his forehead, and he touched his beard briefly, as it it was somehow connected to his thought process. “Ya mean like a chatting site? Well, sure, but-” He bit his lip. “Kinda old-fashioned, isn’t it? Those cam places are a lot more-” He paused, then grinned and leaned down over Eddie again, writing something into the bar at the top of the screen.

All the while, Eddie looked at Frank in bewilderment. How something could be both up-to-date and old-fashioned at the same time was something Eddie couldn’t quite fathom, but he supposed Frank would be the one to know.

“Are ya sure you’re not talkin’ ‘bout camsites?” Frank grinned. “Cuz they let you talk to the models while they put-”

“I’m quite sure,” Eddie interrupted him. “I’d just like a place where I can chat to normal, everyday people.”

“People, eh?” Frank peered down at Eddie, his beard twitching as much as his lips as he fought a smile. “Well, okay.” He didn’t sound convinced at all, but still opened up a chatting website for Eddie to explore. “What’s your name?”

Eddie looked up at him with a crease between his brows. “My name’s Eddie,” he said slowly.

Frank laughed. “You’re adorable. I mean your online name. Your screen name.”

“Oh.” Eddie bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

“‘BigTool67’?” Frank suggested with a grin that showed far too many teeth. “‘9inchTailor’?”

“Very funny,” Eddie scowled, then mumbled, “I’d hate to attract the wrong kind of people.”

“Okay, okay,” Frank scratched his beard. “What about just ‘TailorEddie’?”

Eddie considered it for a moment. “A bit too on the nose, don’t you think?”

“‘6’6’’Monsterco’-” Eddie cut him off with a glare, and Frank put both hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I dunno, man, what do you want it to say about you?”

Eddie pondered this for a moment. His family business was important to him, but perhaps not so important that it was fitting to have it as his one defining characteristic. His love for old-fashioned music? Same thing, really. Important, but not that important. Any mentions of height or girth was completely out of the picture, which left-

“I think just ‘EdGluskin67’,” Eddie finally said, and typed out the name with one finger.

“Adventurous,” Frank said and even managed to squeeze out a yawn.

“I’m not known to be very adventurous,” Eddie said through clenched teeth, finding the final keys needed for his name. “So that’ll be perfect.”

“Dear old Eddie looking for a wife.” Frank whistled and patted Eddie’s back. “Good luck, man, I gotta head back to the diner.”

“Hold on a moment,” Eddie said, finally glancing up. “What is an ‘e-mail’ exactly?”

“Oh boy,” Frank said with a low chuckle. “This is gonna take a while, huh?”  


* * *

  
Two hours later and Eddie was finally by himself again, with some basic understanding of e-mailing and the chatting website. It had various categories, sorted by interests, relationship goals and even some for casual hook-ups. Eddie skipped that one, and decided to go for the category for those looking for someone.

After a brief second he was looked onto the server, with a long list of names being loaded up on the sidebar.

Some had taken Eddie’s example and used what he assumed were their real names, while others were more- imaginative. Eddie scrunched up his nose at some of the names and decided he wasn’t gonna initiate contact with ‘DaddysTwink’ or ‘LookingForD87’.

He was still wondering who to write to, when some soft pinging noises and a few pop-up windows disrupted his thoughts. One was from someone called ‘Perl2536’, which was a sweet enough name, while the other said ‘AssMaster93’. Eddie shuddered, and closed that one quickly, before focusing on the one named ‘Perl’.

_[Perl2536]: Hey, new? :)_

Eddie stared at the message for a moment, before running one hand through his hair, slicking it back further. For some reason he felt nervous just seeing the message.

_[EdGluskin67]: Hello. Yes, I am new here._

That was awfully stiff, Eddie thought, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. He licked his lips and reached for his cup of tea, only to realize it was empty. He stared at the screen again, watching a small pencil move in the corner and the ominous sentence ‘Perl2536 is typing’ next to it.

_[Perl2536]: A man of few words, huh? ;)_

For as stiff as Eddie’s reply was, this girl’s response certainly wasn’t. Eddie cleared his throat and wondered what to say to that.

_[Perl2536]: Did you leave?_

Eddie frowned and started typing.

_[EdGluskin67]: No, I’m still here…_

Eddie paused for a moment, running his hand through his hair again, before sighing and typing in another message.

_[EdGluskin67]: Forgive me, I’m new at this, and I’m not very good at it._

The little pencil started writing, then stopped, then started again.

_[Perl2536]: You haven’t sent me a picture of your dick, so I’d say you’re doing pretty good ;)_

Eddie nearly choked on his spit.

_[EdGluskin67]: People do that?!?_

_[Perl2536]: lol, you really are new. Yeah, people do that all the time._

_[EdGluskin67]: Well, I can assure you I won’t._

“No way,” Eddie said out loud with a huff.

_[Perl2536]: You’re sweet. So, EdGluskin67, tell me about yourself?_

There was an unexpected warmth in Eddie’s chest at those words, although he couldn’t really say why. Perhaps he’d spent far too long alone in his apartment. Maybe he really was starved for human interaction, just like Frank had said.

Eddie considered the question carefully, before responding.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m a tailor. I live in a small mining town in the mountains. I enjoy music and hikes._

He regretted sending it as soon as he did, and quickly added.

_[EdGluskin67]: That makes me sound old, doesn’t it?_

He leaned back and watched the little pencil move.

_[Perl2536]: No, it’s good. Far better than all the guys saying what they like in bed._

She added an animated image of a face laughing.

_[EdGluskin67]: What about you?_

He decided to make himself another cup of tea, and watched the pencil move for a bit before going into the kitchen and putting on a kettle of water. He leaned against the counter, trying to picture the girl on the other side of the screen. Perl was no doubt a play on words, but he couldn’t help but think that she was probably a real pearl. He was interrupted by the whistling of the kettle, and he smiled and got out a clean mug and added water and a teabag.

When he returned to the study, she had written quite a bit, and he smiled wider as he sat down.

_[Perl2536]: Well, I just finished my Master’s degree at Berkeley university, and I moved back home to Denver to work with computers. I’ll admit I’m a total computer geek, so I hope that doesn’t bother you._

Eddie stared at the screen. Denver wasn’t more than a few hours away. That was a dangerous path for his mind to take this early, so he shook his head and kept on reading.

_[Perl2536]: I also really enjoy movies. Going out to watch a movie with lots of popcorn is my favorite thing ever._

Then, after a pause.

_[Perl2536]: Ah, shit. You left when I said “computer geek”, huh?_

Eddie chuckled.

_[EdGluskin67]: No, I’m sorry. I got myself something warm to drink. It’s been cold here now._

He paused, before he continued.

_[EdGluskin67]: And even though I don’t know much about computers, I don’t mind that others do. I guess they have their own charm._

It was sort of true, he supposed, even if he found them daunting. He scowled at the computer, but still patted the keyboard.

_[EdGluskin67]: And I really enjoy going to the movies, too. It’s been a while, but it really has a certain magic._

_[Perl2536]: Maybe you could invite me along one day ;)_

She was a bit forward, Eddie though, but not really in a bad way. She seemed playful, which was something Eddie certainly appreciated. He had a sip of tea, pondering what to answer.

_[EdGluskin67]: I think it would be nice sharing a bucket of popcorn with you ;)_

He stared at the winking face he had just made, wondering if he’d made a mistake.

_[Perl2536]: Is that a euphemism? ;) I’m kidding. Sounds nice. I have to say it’s refreshing to meet a man I can actually talk to._

_[EdGluskin67]: Does this mean you’d want us to get to know each other?_

It was Eddie’s time to be forward, but the thought of never talking to her again made his chest clench. The little pencil wrote again, then stopped, and he watched as she erased what she had written, only to write some more.

_[Perl2536]: I’d like that._

Eddie stared at the screen, a smile spreading across his face.

They chatted for another four hours, hours that flew by like mere minutes in Eddie’s mind. Despite their conflicting interests, they talked like they had known each other forever, something Eddie had thought had been nothing but an empty cliché. Eddie learned quite a few things about Perl, and each new thing he learned just made him want to learn more.

Nothing could last forever, though, not even a lovely first meeting like this, and even though Eddie had yawned at least five times the past twenty minutes, he still felt a twinge of disappointment when he read the next message from Perl.

_[Perl2536]: I should go to bed now, early day, but I’ll be on later tomorrow… If you’re interested._

Eddie couldn’t help but smile, and wondered how forward he should be.

“Go all in, Eddie,” he said to himself, before typing out a message.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’ll be here._

They said goodnight, and when Eddie powered his computer down and closed the lid, his heart was actually pounding.


	2. Waylon

Waylon woke up three minutes before the alarm went off, and he spent those minutes staring at the ceiling with a grin on his face.

He’d spent more time online than he’d like to admit, and it had been so refreshing to meet someone who didn’t immediately jump to sex talks or dick-pics. Ed seemed… He seemed different than the others. Waylon smiled wider, before rolling out of bed.

With a quick glance down the hallway, he padded over to the bathroom and slipped into the shower. Miles was probably not gonna wake up for another hour and a half, so he’d have lots of time getting ready. Unless he-

“Morning.”

Waylon startled and accidentally turned the water on too hot, yelping in surprise.

“Ow! Shit! Miles, what the hell are you-” Waylon peeked out through the shower curtain. “Why are you up so early?”

“The correct question is why I am up so late.” Miles wagged his finger and chuckled, before looking into the mirror. “Jesus, I look like hell.” He laughed again and tried to tame his hair.

“Okay.” Waylon shook his head. “Why are you up so late then?”

“I got a new lead,” Miles said, conspiratorially. “And this time it’s definitely a big one.”

“Oh jeez. What is it this time? Bigfoot? Serial killers? Big corporations covering up seedy activities?”

“No, no and n- Well, actually, I guess all three could be correct. I’ve hit it big this time, my friend.” Miles paused, no doubt for dramatic effect, before he continued. “You’ll see.”

“Aw,” Waylon said, rinsing off his hair. “All that build-up for nothing?”

“Not nothing.” It sounded like Miles opened one of the bathroom drawers, and dug around in it. “I’ve planted the seed in your mind, now, see? You won’t stop wondering what this might be.”

Waylon rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a fond smile. Miles was just so _Miles_.

“A real mystery,” Miles declared with no small amount of pride. “And you’ll beg me for the real story.” Before Waylon could respond, Miles yawned. “Well, I’m gonna go catch some Zs. Catch ya later.”

‘Catch some Zs’ was usually codeword for sleeping all day, so Waylon rather doubted he would. It was a nice sentiment, if nothing else.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps it was creepy to Google people, Waylon thought, but hey, Miles would have encouraged it, if he hadn’t been sleeping.

There wasn’t much Waylon was able to dig up about Ed Gluskin, anyway.

Well, he had found out a few things. There was an Edward Gluskin living in Leadville, in a tailor shop, and Waylon doubted it was a coincidence. If there were two Gluskin’s living in mountain towns as tailors, then Waylon would have to call for Miles, because that would be worthy of a Twilight Zone special. So if nothing else he had found out there was an Edward Gluskin, but that was about it.

He couldn’t find a LinkedIn profile, not a Facebook account, not even an outdated MySpace as far as he could tell. Nothing but a half-grainy Google street view of an old fashioned storefront.

It was kind of creepy, really. Leadville wasn’t far away at all. If he wanted to, he could even take his car and-

Waylon shook his head. He didn’t even know what had gotten into him, obsessing over someone he’d barely even talked to. It was sad, really, how desperate he’d gotten. All the guys he had met lately had only been interested in one thing, and one thing only, and not the thing that Waylon was interested in. He wanted more than just a one night stand.

He looked through the searches with more than one search engine, disappointed each time by the random image results. If one of them was the right Ed Gluskin, he’d be hard pressed to figure out which one.

Waylon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long again, and he knew he should go get a haircut and not obsess over some stranger from the internet. Instead he found himself glancing at the list of names on the chatting website he already had open, ignoring whoever else tried to speak with him.

Work had felt both faster and slower than normal, and the sun was muted as it played across the living room floor. Waylon held his breath for a moment before releasing it in a loud puff. Then he got up, paced a little, sat back down and got back up once more.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbled, and went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of juice. He felt like he was a young adolescent with a crush, and the feeling was unsettling.

He downed the glass of orange juice, breathed hard, and poured himself another glass before going back into the living room. He considered bringing his laptop into his bedroom, but dumped into the couch instead.

Eddie probably wouldn’t be on, if his prior login was any indication, and Waylon chewed on his thumb nail, and reloaded the chatting site, just in case.

There was a brief moment of disappointment, before Ed’s name became visible in the list, in which his heart actually did a curious little jump.

“Jeez,” Waylon chuckled, placing a hand above his chest bone, and double clicked on his name to open up a new window. He wondered if it was uncool or something to write something right away, but luckily Ed beat him to the punch.

_[EdGluskin67]: Was hoping you were on._

_[Perl2536]: Would it be cheesy if I said I was hoping you’d be on too? ;P_

Waylon held his breath while watching the little pencil move in the corner, before Ed finally replied.

_[EdGluskin67]: Then I suppose I was the first one to be._

Waylon smiled before responding.

_[Perl2536]: It’s kind of silly, isn’t it? I mean, we barely know each other._

_[EdGluskin67]: I don’t think it is._

There was a pause.

_[EdGluskin67]: Perhaps this is a bit forward of me, but you seem different than the others._

Waylon swallowed his juice audibly. It was… nice, really, to see his own thoughts mirrored through Eddie’s words. Maybe that meant that-

“Whatcha up to?”

Waylon snapped his head up so fast he briefly wondered if he’d hurt his neck, only to find Miles standing in the doorway. He was grinning that infuriating grin again, the one that let Waylon know he absolutely knew what Waylon was up to.

“I thought you were gonna sleep all day.”

“Nah, I have to head back out again. Big lead.” He winked. “Don’t ignore my question.”

“I’m just…” Waylon looked down at his screen. “I’m just talking to someone.”

“Someone, huh?” Miles stalked closer, like a predator after its prey, and Waylon shrunk down into the couch.

“Fine, I’m on that chatting site again, satisfied?”

Miles dumped down next to Waylon and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“That really gay one?”

“Well, duh,” Waylon shrugged out of Miles’ hold. “I wanna meet someone, remember?”

Miles was unperturbed by Waylon’s posture, and leaned closer to the screen so he could squint at it.

“Who the fuck is ‘Perl2536’?”

“That would be me.”

“Did ya misspell ‘pearl’?” Miles snickered, and shamelessly started reading the conversation.

“It’s a programming langu- Do you mind?”

“‘EdGluskin67’…” Miles leaned back with a grin on his face. “Do you think 67 is his age or something?”

Waylon paled. “I kinda thought it was his birth year.”

“That makes him, what-” Miles started counting on his fingers, but finally just shrugged. “Still too old for you.”

“He wouldn’t.” Waylon glared at Miles. “Now, can I please get back to my conversation?”

“Go ahead,” Miles grinned. “I think your old man’s getting impatient.”

Waylon looked back at the screen.

_[EdGluskin67]: Oh dear. Was it my turn to scare you away?_

_[Perl2536]: Sorry, my mom called, I had to answer it._

Next to him, Miles snickered. “You know lying in a relationship is a bad sign, right?”

“Shaddap,” Waylon wheezed. “What am I supposed to say? ‘My idiot roommate decided to crash the party’?”

“Your idiot best friend, thank you very much,” Miles quipped and nudged Waylon’s shoulder with his own.

_[EdGluskin67]: Ah. I hope I’m not interrupting anything._

Waylon groaned. “Now it’s all gone wrong, thank you.”

“Nah, it’s fine, look.” Miles shoved Waylon out of the way, and started clacking away at the keyboard.

“Wait, wha- Miles, what are you doing?!” Waylon hissed, and tried to reclaim his laptop to no avail.

“Helping you two out, jeez,” Miles laughed. “You’re like two first graders.”

_[Perl2536]: Of course not. I’d drop anything to talk with you._

“Oh my God.” Waylon was too mortified to say anything else. So was Ed, it seemed, because he went quiet for a long while before the tiny pencil finally started writing again.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m flattered._

“Oh, this is bad,” Waylon whined, trying to push Miles away again. “And it’s too late now to say my idiot roommate took over.”

“Idiot best friend,” Miles corrected again, before writing something to Ed in a furious tempo.

“No, it’s definitely idiot roommate!” Waylon cried, while batting Miles’ hands.

_[Perl2536]: Well, it’s true ;) Now tell me, what does the ‘67’ stand for?”_

“If it’s the guy’s fucking age, I’ll never shut up about it,” Miles grinned, and held Waylon away with one arm. “Waylon Park, raiding the geriatric ward.”

“It’s not gonna be his age,” Waylon hissed, but honestly he wasn’t altogether sure anymore.

[EdGluskin67]: Ah, it’s the year I was born. Not very original, I know.

“So that makes him…” Miles started counting on his fingers again.

“46,” Waylon said. “Which is perfectly age appropriate and not at all creepy.”

_[EdGluskin67]: I hope that doesn’t bother you?_

“Aw, look,” Miles said, typing something out again. “He got self-conscious.”

_[Perl2536]: Oh, no, not at all. I like older men ;)_

“Miles!” Waylon had gone ashen by this point. “You’re ruining everything, Jesus Christ.”

“I am not! He’s still talking to you, isn’t he?”

Actually, he wasn’t. The little pencil stayed still for a very long time, and even Miles’ smile had gone rigid. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the pencil started moving again.

_[EdGluskin67]: I know it’s bad manners, but how old are you exactly?_

“This guy is so fucking polite,” Miles chuckled. “It’s so _weird_.”

“Yeah, God forbid people are nice.” Waylon had given up by this point, and he just slumped the other way, resigned to his fate.

“Should I give him your real age, or turn you into borderline jailbait?”

“Oh God,” Waylon said, and covered his face.

“Fine, fine…”

_[Perl2536]: You know it’s not nice to ask a lady’s age, but I was born in 1986._

Ed got really quiet for a long moment before responding.

_[EdGluskin67]: You’re quite young, then._

_[Perl2536]: Not illegally young ;)_

“You can’t say these things, Miles. You just can’t.”

“Just tryin’ to flirt with the guy, jeez, you make it sound like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You _don’t_ know what you’re doing!” Waylon smacked his arm. “And I’m not a damn lady!”

“You’re dainty like a lady.” Miles’ attention was still on the screen. “Isn’t that a term? Ladyboy?”

“I’m not a ladyboy!” Waylon sputtered.

“A twink?” This time Miles turned to Waylon, grinning that infuriating grin of his.

“I’m not a twink!”

“You’re right, you’re too hairy to be one.” Miles’ hand shot down, pinching his stomach. “And not nearly toned enough.”

Before Waylon had the chance to hit him again, Miles pointed at the screen. “Look, he replied!”

_[EdGluskin67]: Are you feeling alright? You seem different._

Waylon groaned, while Miles started typing even faster.

_[Perl2536]: I’m afraid I had a glass of wine. I hope that doesn’t bother you. It helps me relax. I was so nervous about talking to you again <3_

“Okay, so now I’m an alcoholic and a creep? Thanks a lot, Miles.”

“Pfft, One glass of wine don’t make you an alcoholic. You’re nuts.”

_[EdGluskin67]: Is that a common occurrence?_

“Oh my G- He really does think I’m an alcoholic! Miles, please, stop!”

Miles actually had the good grace to look a little insecure, and he gave Waylon a sheepish smile. “I’m sure he just thinks you’re…” he trailed off and started writing again.

_[Perl2536]: No, probably why it hit me so hard ;)_

“See?” Miles said. “I fixed it.”

“I doubt it!” Waylon pointed to the screen. “Look! It doesn’t even make sense! You say the wine helps you relax, then that you rarely drink it? Fuck, you’re horrible at this!”

“Well,” Miles started laughing. “Now you know why I’m single, I guess.”

“Give me that,” Waylon hissed, and this time Miles didn’t stop him when he reached for the laptop.

_[EdGluskin67]: Do you have plans for the night?_

Miles leaned closer, peering over Waylon’s shoulder as he wrote a reply.

_[Perl2536]: I was hoping I was gonna talk to you, but now I worry I messed it all up._

“Smooth,” Miles half wheezed, half whispered right into Waylon’s ear, breath tickling him. “Real smooth.”

_[EdGluskin67]: You haven’t. Maybe it’s my turn to ask what the numbers in your name stands for?_

Waylon chuckled to himself and shook his head.

“What?” Miles asked. “What does it stand for?”

_[Perl2536]: Actually, it’s something as stupid as my student number in school. The screen name is also my email so I could keep in touch with people when I moved away._

“Aw, Way. You’re so cute,” Miles said, and pinched his waist.

_[EdGluskin67]: That’s not stupid at all. Definitely nicer and more original than one’s birth year._

_[Perl2536]: Can I say I’m a little relieved it’s not your age? :P_

There was a brief pause, and Waylon imagined Ed laughing on the other side.

_[EdGluskin67]: Ha ha, definitely. I’d be relieved too ;)_

“Oh my word, he laughed,” Miles said. “And a smiley face. I think he likes you, Way!”

“No thanks to you,” Waylon sniffed, but didn’t move away when Miles put his arm back around his shoulders.

“Where does he live?”

“He hasn’t told me, but-” Waylon cut himself off, wondering how to put it.

“Fuck,” Miles laughed. “You googled him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” Waylon hung his head low, and ignored the way Miles was shaking him.

“My sleuthing is rubbin’ off on ya! I’m so proud.”

Waylon shot his elbow into Miles’ side, but it didn’t stop him.

“Proud like a papa bird.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna put bleach in your coffee,” Waylon warned.

“You know I only drink coffee I’ve made myself for that very reason.” Miles tapped his nose. “I’m quite smart, you know.”

“I could hear the winky face in that sentence,” Waylon groaned.

“So where does he live?”

“He said mountain town, and when I googled him, the only Ed Gluskin I could find lives in Leadville.”

“Leadville, Leadville…” Miles thrummed his finger on his bottom lip. “That’s not far away, is it?”

“No, just an hour or two… Why?” Waylon started feeling nervous by the sudden intensity on Miles’ face.

“Hey, do you know how he looks?” Miles grabbed the laptop away from Waylon again.

“No, I don’t and you’re not aski-”

“I gots to know, man!” Miles exclaimed, pushing Waylon away again.

_[Perl2536]: Hey, this might be awfully forward of me (yet again), but do you have a picture of yourself? I can’t promise I’ll return the favor, but I’d love to see how you look ;)_

“Look at me,” Miles said to himself. “Being all cheeky and shit.”

_[EdGluskin67]: Well. I just happen to have a very recent photograph a friend sent me. Hold on._

There was a long pause, where Waylon was too busy chewing on his fingers to notice the shit-eating grin on Miles’ face.

_[EdGluskin67]: Can I just drag the image over, or…? Hold on._

Miles snickered. “Are you sure he’s not 67?”

“Shut up, Miles, seriously! I’m dying over here.”

There was another while still, before a file was waiting for Waylon to either accept or deny, and Miles slammed the enter key so hard the laptop nearly slid off his lap, before proceeding to click the open button before it even started downloading.

Waylon kind of wanted to tell him to calm the hell down, but truth be told he was just as eager.

When the image finally opened, Miles groaned. “How are we gonna know which one he is? There’s at least five people in this image!”

“You need to learn how to count, seriously.”

He was right, though. It was hard to tell who ‘EdGluskin67’ could be out of the four people in the picture. The first man was a scrawny man with a bushy beard, holding up something that looked like a bowling trophy, the second an elderly man with a bald head-

“Hah!” Miles said, pressing his finger against the scrawny, bearded man. “I hope it’s this one! He looks like he might have an opossum hidin’ under all that hair!”

“Shut up,” Waylon hissed again, staring at the last two.

The third was almost as wide as he was tall, with an angry scowl and a buzzcut, and the final- Waylon sucked in a breath. The fourth didn’t look much happier than the third, with a sharp, angular face and a haircut that didn’t seem quite fitting based on his age, but that fit him all the same.

Oh fuck, Waylon wanted it to be him.

Well, it wouldn’t really matter, would it? He liked Ed for _Ed_ , not fo-

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m such a doofus sometimes. I’m the one on the far right._

Waylon’s stomach did that weird flip again, and he sank back.

“Miles,” he said breathlessly. “He’s fucking hot.”

“Sure, if you like ‘em tall and muscular,” Miles sniffed and sank back as well. “And dark and brooding.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Miles. At least you have the dark hair?” Waylon nudged him, and Miles sniffed again. “But don’t ruin this for me. Did I ever tell you about the blind date I was on, where the guy turned out to be my dad’s age?”

“Kinda like Eddie here, you mean?”

“Well, looking like that, I’d even do him if he was-”

“If you’re gonna say you’d do him even if he was 67, then I’m gonna go hang myself.”

Waylon chuckled. “I was gonna say something way grosser.”

Miles groaned and pretended to gag.

_[EdGluskin67]: Are you still there?_

“Oh God, I forgot to answer him.”

_[Perl2536]: I’m here..._

“How forward should I be?” Waylon asked, turning to Miles.

“Very forward,” Miles answered.

_[Perl2536]: You’re very good looking._

Waylon sank back and covered his face with his forearm.

“Fuck, Way, are you four?” Miles pulled his arm away. “Sometimes I have trouble thinking of you in bed. You must be a virgin, the way you blush and giggle like a little girl.”

“First off… Why are you thinking of me in bed? Secondly, I do not blush and gi-”

Miles laughed and pulled on Waylon’s arms again. “Want me to get a mirror? You’re red as a fucking beet, my friend.”

Ed had gone quiet as well, but finally the pencil moved again.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m flattered. And glad :) I do hope you’ll return the favor one day, but I won’t pressure you._

“Why can’t you just send him a pic of yourself?” Miles asked. “What about that nice one of you and Lisa I took the other day?”

It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Miles had taken a picture of Waylon and his ex-girlfriend, now close friend, in front of the Downtown Aquarium, and for once he actually looked good in it, not awkward and lanky like he usually did.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Miles said, an offended crinkle in his nose.“I thought of it.”

Waylon quickly went into his email, opening the latest one from Miles. He opened the image, and scrutinized it.

He looked okay, perhaps a bit pale from the blue light coming from the tanks, but for once his smile didn’t look awkward. His hair was a bit too long, but at least the blue gave his blonde hair a bit of an otherworldly glow. Lisa looked beautiful, like she always did. They actually looked like siblings in the photo, which was more than a little unsettling.

“Okay,” Waylon said in a breath. “I’ll do it.”

_[Perl2536]: I guess it’s a bit unfair of me to not send anything back._

Then he dragged the image onto the chat window, resisted the urge to cover his face again, and watched head-on as the image was uploaded with a growing sense of terror.

It took a while before Ed said anything, but when he did, Waylon could feel himself blushing.

_[EdGluskin67]: Darling, you’re absolutely beautiful._

Miles whistled. “This guy is good. I should take notes. Think this’ll work on chicks?”

“Miles,” Waylon groaned. “This will work on anyone.”

_[EdGluskin67]: I’ll admit I’m a bit taken aback. I never pictured you so-_

“If he’s gonna say perfect, I’m gonna barf,” Miles said.

_[EdGluskin67]: Perfect._

“Be right back.” Miles had the audacity to look a little green.

“Shut up, you asshole, don’t ruin it.” Waylon clung to Miles’ arm, making it impossible for him to walk away. “Don’t leave!”

“I thought you wanted me to leave?”

“I did, but now I’m starting to think you’re actually like a good luck charm, or something.”

Miles reluctantly sat back down, but Waylon still held his sleeve with one hand, while typing with the other.

_[Perl2536]: Does this mean we’ll definitely go see that movie, then? ;)_

_[EdGluskin67]: If it wasn’t so late, darling, I’d drive to Denver right now._

Waylon couldn’t help it, he actually made a high pitched squeal in the back of his throat, and when he turned, Miles was looking at him like he had grown an extra head.

“You’re a fucking girl, Park.”

For once, Waylon didn’t even care enough to disagree.


	3. Eddie

Leadville was beautiful in the early morning. Eddie was surprised he’d never noticed before.

The sun played over the historical old buildings lining the main street and the wind rustled through the trees dotting the town. Eddie tilted his head back a little, closing his eyes, enjoying the fresh mountain air. When he opened his eyes back up it was to the sight of the snow-covered peaks in the distance, and he smiled. Everything was made sweeter by the thought of Perl.

There was a big, bright smile on Eddie’s face as he walked the familiar way over to Frank’s diner, and he had his coat unbuttoned despite the early morning chill. It was just a few blocks, and Eddie took his time with it, even greeting people on his way.

Frank’s diner was as greasy as any other day, though, and Eddie tried to keep his nose from wrinkling as he opened the door with his shoulder. Low music was playing over the speakers and although Eddie couldn’t yet see Frank, he could hear him whistle along to the tune. Eddie made his way over to the counter, where he found Frank leaned over some unidentifiable chunk of meat. Still, he wasn’t gonna let a little grease and off-key whistling ruin his good mood.

“Frank, I could kiss you.” Those were the first words out of Eddie’s mouth, and to his surprise Frank actually flinched. Then he just stared at Eddie for a long time, eyes comically wide, bristling like a frightened cat.

“What, you’re not gonna kill me?” he finally croaked.

“Why would I kill you, my dear friend?” Eddie asked, and stopped himself from giving Frank a hug. Frank was wearing an apron that was so covered in gravy Eddie was sure it could stand on its own. He made a mental note to get nothing but a cup of coffee. Like he always ended up doing.

“Heh.” Frank deflated and scratched his arm. “I dunno? What got you in such a good mood, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal?”

“I met the most beautiful girl on that chatting website you showed me.” Eddie sat down, leaning his head against the palm of his hand. “Not just beautiful physically, mind you, although she certainly is, but her way of speaking, her thoughts and ideas…”

“... Girl?” Frank looked confused.

“Well, I suppose _woman_ is the right term, if you’re gonna be weird about it,” Eddie snipped, but soon sank back into his pleasant daydreams.

“You met a woman there?” Frank asked, looking as dumbfounded as before. “On that chatting website I showed you?”

“Yes. I’ll admit I had my fears, but there she was.”

“Has this girl sent you her picture or something?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “I’d be happy no matter what, truth be told, but she’s pretty too. Long, strawberry blonde hair and innocent eyes…”

Frank was starting to look a little ill.

“On that chatting website?” Frank repeated. “The one I showed you?”

“Yes, yes, on that chatting website,” Eddie growled. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, uh, nothing.” Frank started stirring something he might be trying to pass off as scrambled eggs and bacon. “Just a little surprised, is all.”

“And before you say anything, yes, she knows my age. No problem there.” Eddie waved his hand and sat back a little.

“And how old is this _girl_?”

Eddie looked a little sheepish. “A bit too young for me, admittedly.”

Frank shot him a sharp look.

“She’s 27.”

“Dear lord,” Frank chuckled. “You’re one of _those_ guys now, huh?”

“I’ll have you know I’d like her even if she was-”

“-Your age?”

“Yes,” Eddie scoffed. “Even if she was _my age_.”

“Cool, cool. We still on for this Friday?” Frank finally seemed to give up on the scrambled eggs, and moved to the pot of coffee instead, pouring Eddie a cup. He didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, before he spoke again. “Don’t ‘spose you got a picture of this here gal of yours?”

Eddie said nothing for a while, wondering if it would be worth it, considering Frank would no doubt tease him for the rest of eternity.

“Oh fuck, you do, don’t you?” Frank laughed. “Lemme guess, it’s in your wallet, cut in the shape of a heart?”

“Why are we friends again?” Eddie asked.

“All the free coffee?” Frank winked and placed the cup in front of Eddie. “Now spill.”

“It’s not cut in the shape of a heart,” Eddie finally sighed and got his wallet out. He supposed it was a little strange; He had woken up early that day to buy a machine that could transfer images from the computer onto glossy paper, like a real photograph. He had placed the photograph in the front pouch of his wallet, the photograph neatly folded, and he showed it to Frank.

Frank immediately pulled it out of the plastic cover, stared at it for a moment, and then unfolded it. Then he stared at it for a long while yet, while a smirk slowly started forming on his face, until it was wide enough to be damn near unsettling.

“Uh,” Eddie said. “Should I be afraid? Is it someone you know?”

“No,” Frank said, amusement evident in his tone. I’ve never seen these two in my life.” He chuckled and gave Eddie the photograph back. “It’s just that I totally get it now.”

“I know,” Eddie said with a sigh. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Frank chuckled again and shook his head. “She sure is. Now, are we on for this Friday, or not?”  
  


* * *

 

‘Gluskin’s Clothing and Tailoring’ had been his grandfather’s store when he had first immigrated to America, and it had been handed down to his mother, and finally Eddie himself. He stared up at the storefront and remembered the good parts of his childhood. How his grandfather had let him sit on his knee while he worked delicate stitches with his wrinkled old hands. His mother’s slight accent and bright blue eyes, the only thing he’d inherited from her.

He was sure his mother would have approved of Perl.

True, he’d done a lot of wrongs in his life. Eddie entered the store, trailing his hand along the ancient wood and thick, antique wallpapers. But he’d gotten better, he knew he had. With a sigh he unbuttoned his coat, hanging it over a chair in the back.

There had been some… unfortunate incidents with women who had come in for fittings, but Eddie thought he knew where he had gone wrong, which was a big step in the right direction, surely. But he’d keep getting better. If not for himself or his mother, then for Perl.

His therapist would click her tongue and scold him for that line of thinking, but he was a romantic, first and foremost.

He loosened his bowtie, and let it dangle around his neck, while he unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shirt. He had cranked the heat way up, thinking it would be another icy cold April morning, but by some miracle spring had appeared overnight, and by the time he entered his upstairs apartment, he was almost sweating.

Ignoring the kettle altogether, he opted instead for some iced tea, which he put a generous amount of ice cubes into, before going back into his study.

He’d barely even logged on to the chatting website before the soft ping announced that Perl had started a conversation, and Eddie was ashamed to admit his stomach gave a flutter, like it was suddenly occupied by butterflies.

_[Perl2536]: Hey… :)_

Eddie smiled and just stared at the message for a moment before replying.

_[EdGluskin67]: Hi. How are you doing today?_

_[Perl2536]: Better, now ;)_

Eddie sat smiling for a little bit, before typing out another line.

_[EdGluskin67]: I can never tell if you’re being as sincere as I am. It feels like a dream, somehow._

_[Perl2536]: Honestly, same._

A pause.

_[Perl2536]: The dream part, I mean. I’m being sincere. Honestly, I still can’t get over that picture of you._

Eddie chuckled and had a sip of his ice tea, wondering again how forward he could be.

_[EdGluskin67]: Does that mean it’s a bad time to mention it’s so hot here now I had to unbutton my shirt?_

He briefly considered adding a winking smiley face, but decided against it.

_[Perl2536]: … Go on._

_[EdGluskin67]: Heh, I thought it was gonna be a cold day, and I cranked the heat up too high. It’s scorching hot in here, and I had to partially undress and go for iced tea instead of regular tea._

There was a long pause on Perl’s end, and Eddie wondered if he has scared her off, before she finally wrote again.

_[Perl2536]: It suddenly got a bit hot here as well._

_Naughty_ , that was the only thing on Eddie’s mind, but there was something innocent about her naughtiness as well, something sweet and virginal and- Eddie felt himself hardening by just a few words on the screen and shook his head with a smile. He suddenly felt eighteen again, with fumbling first kisses in his father’s barn, shaking hands pressing into-

_[EdGluskin67]: Ever since seeing your picture, I’ve thought about kissing you._

Eddie bit his lip. He’d thought of more than that, to be honest, but he didn’t want to scare the poor girl away.

_[Perl2536]: I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought the same… In fact I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it right this moment._

_[EdGluskin67]: Suddenly it’s getting even hotter here, even though I turned the heat off ;)_

Eddie stared at the smiley face he just made with conflicting emotions, but he decided it did give an apt description of how he was feeling.

_[Perl2536]: Same, haha. I had to unbutton my own shirt._

Oh, that was an image. Eddie shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position where his erection didn’t strain against his fly.

_[EdGluskin67]: Quite the minx, aren’t we?_

_[Perl2536]: Only for you ;)_

A sharp jolt of arousal shot through Eddie at those words. That got him more than knowing there was a beautiful woman out there undressing; the fact that she was undressing for him, and no one else.

_[Perl2536]: You looked so serious in that picture you sent me. I’ve tried to picture you in… other situations…_

_[EdGluskin67]: I definitely don’t look very serious right now._

An idea suddenly occurred to Eddie and he quickly typed out that he’d be right back before clicking on the small magnifying glass on the bottom bar of his screen. Once there he typed out ‘camera’. Honestly, he felt like he belonged in some control room at NASA or something just then, and he decided he had to tell Frank about this the next time they met. Well, excluding what he was gonna do with said camera.

He fiddled a little with the interface for the camera, until a small light lit up above his screen, and he was greeted by a blurry preview of himself. He squinted at it for a moment, trying to adjust it, until it was finally clear enough for him to be identifiable.

Honestly, he hadn’t given a clear thought to how he wanted to take the picture, and he stared at himself with a frown. Perhaps if he adjusted his shirt a little and unbuttoned a few more buttons… He hoped he wasn’t actually broadcasting this display to all of Leadville, or, even worse, to Perl. Using both hands he tried to smooth his hair back down, before adjusting his half-opened shirt until it showed enough of his collarbones and pectorals. He decided to keep the bow tie undone around his neck.

“Jesus, Eddie,” he mumbled to himself. “When did you become so vain?” He knew the answer, of course. He just really wanted to impress this girl.

Now came the problem of a facial expression. Eddie licked his lips and stared at the pop-up window with Perl’s conversation. He’d already spent far too much time already, hadn’t he? Perhaps Perl thought he had to use the bathroom or something awkward like that. He cleared his throat and tried a few facial expressions. It came out forced and… he hated to say it, but it made him look a bit strange. He was definitely sweating now.

Okay, if he just read over her messages again, then maybe he’d get back in the mood. Eddie bit his lower lip and re-read the conversation, causing his now wilted erection to regain the interest he’d lost while fiddling with that damn technology. When he had what he hoped was a sufficient amount of lust on his face, he quickly snapped a photo, glanced over it quickly, and dragged the little icon over to the pop-up window, his heart hammering in his chest.

Forget about the vanity, when did he become such a clumsy, nervous mess? Perl again, no doubt, but damn if it wasn’t annoying.

She didn’t respond right away, but Eddie decided that was a good sign. Once she finally replied, Eddie leaned back with a smirk.

_[Perl2536]: … I’m seriously fanning myself right now. You. Are. Hot!_

Now, his father hadn’t taught Eddie many helpful things, but one piece of advice had stuck, and that was always leaving people wanting more. Eddie decided it was time to be very forward.

_[EdGluskin67]: I think I have to cut this short, darling, I’m sorry, lots to do here tomorrow._

He saw the little pencil move, then stop, then move again, before Perl finally replied.

_[Perl2536]: Nonono, not yet!_

_[EdGluskin]; I think we should do things right and go to that movie theater together. I bet your lips in the darkened theater would be even more enchanting than anything we could ever do tonight._

_[Perl2536]: You wanna meet?_

The sentence was too short to tell Eddie much about how she felt about that, and he got a sudden unwelcome stab of remorse. Perhaps he’d done this all wrong.

_[EdGluskin67]: I think we should. In time._

And after typing out a quick good bye, Eddie logged off. He stared at the dark screen, wondering if he’d made a mistake. The butterflies in his stomach were restless, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.


	4. Waylon

Waylon was ashamed to admit he had jerked off to the picture of Ed the previous night, and even more ashamed to admit he woke up horny. It wasn’t even a very graphic picture, but it showcased Ed’s impressive physique and an expression filled with so much sexual desire that Waylon felt dizzy even thinking about it.

He knew he’d never admit this to Miles, though, since he’d already complained about all the other guys sending him nothing but dick-pics and sordid conversations. He knew this was different. True, they hadn’t spoken for more than a couple of days, but it was different. Waylon groaned and pressed his face into the pillow. Miles would laugh at it anyway, which was why Waylon wasn’t gonna mention it at all. It wasn’t as though he owed it to Miles or anything.

With any luck Miles wouldn’t be home anyway and Waylon could jerk off in the shower and quell his sudden hormonal desires enough to function for the day.

Fuck, he felt kind of pathetic.

With another groan he stretched and got out of bed, deciding on a bathrobe because of his still-straining erection and peered out into the hallway from any telltale sounds of Miles scurrying about. Satisfied with the lack of sounds, he promptly went into the bathroom.

Ed wanted them to meet. Heat started pooling in his belly again and he groaned and splashed his face with icy water from the faucet.

Leadville was less than two hours away, it wouldn’t even be that crazy to- He cut his thought process there, turning on the shower instead. He’d have to think long and hard about this. Which meant he’d have to take a cold shower instead of the long and hot one he’d envisioned.  
  


* * *

 

The cold shower hadn’t helped at all.

Waylon cursed himself while walking into the kitchen. It held all the signs that Miles had been there at some point during the night; coffee grounds all over the sink, bread crumbs on the floor, and an oversized piece of paper glued to the fridge with Miles’ tiny scribbles informing him he’d be out all day on a case.

Waylon snorted and tried to peel the glue off the fridge, causing the paper to tear in the process. Honestly, he was almost disappointed that Miles wasn’t there. He could have used the distraction.

With a sigh he made himself toast and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Then again, if Miles _was_ there, he'd probably encourage it. If Miles could have his way they’d probably be on their way to Leadville right now.

Waylon carried his breakfast over to the couch, bit into his toast and opened up his laptop. He hadn’t gone as far as putting Ed’s picture as a background, but he’d left it on his otherwise immaculate desktop for easy access.

He had thought that a mouth full of bread and jam would make the image less effective, but the look on Ed’s face shot straight to his groin regardless.

He looked so strong. Tall, too, if you could judge such a thing from such an angle.

You probably could, Waylon decided, licking jam off his thumb as he stared at the curve of Ed’s pectorals. Besides, unless the other men in the picture he had sent were exceedingly short, then he had to be tall. Taller than Waylon, in any case.

Trying to act like an adult, Waylon checked his email, then his work email, and even started reading the news before his nerves felt frayed and exposed. He wanted to talk to Ed, and preferably straight away. With a defeated sigh he placed his empty platter on the table, shook his head, and started logging on.

How long had he been on this chatting service? Far too long, admittedly. Yet he’d never felt like this before. Usually he had ended up feeling annoyed and disappointed. Part of him worried it would be like that this time as well.

Names started loading on the sidebar, and he had to press his hand against his chest to keep it from pounding when he saw Ed’s name among them.

“Jeez,” he whispered. “Get it together, Waylon.” Even so, his heart didn’t slow down as he double clicked Ed’s name, and started a conversation.

_[Perl2536]: Hi there._

Waylon leaned back and chewed absentmindedly on his thumb nail, his foot bouncing up and down under the table. It took only a moment before the chat box let him know that Ed was replying.

_[EdGluskin67]: There you are._

It was mortifying, but Waylon actually felt the blush as it crept over his neck. Under the message, the little pencil kept writing.

_[EdGluskin67]: I was worried I scared you away._

Waylon snorted and chuckled.

_[Perl2536]: Hardly. If anything it had the opposite effect._

He kept himself from mentioning the endless arousal.

_[EdGluskin67]: Honestly, I feel kind of silly. It’s not right for me to encourage meeting like this._

Waylon ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach.

_[Perl2536]: Oh?_

_[EdGluskin67]: Don’t get me wrong, darling, I’d love to see you, but I should be the one to come to you. Surprise you._

Oh, he was just too much. Waylon pressed his hand to his mouth, hiding the grin.

_[Perl2536]: Kinda old fashioned, don’t you think? I don’t mind at all._

It took just a moment before Ed replied.

_[EdGluskin67]: I like doing things right._

_[Perl2536]: Not very gentlemanly, though, is it? Leaving during something like that._

He knew he was pushing things, and he shifted in the couch. God, he really was acting like a hormonal teenager.

_[EdGluskin67]: Forgive me, darling, you made me chuckle a bit there. You’re right._

That made Waylon laugh, and he wondered how Ed’s laughter might sound like. Probably rich and deep. God, he had it bad.

_[Perl2536]: I’ve been looking at that picture a lot…_

Waylon held his breath until Ed responded, and released the air with a groan when he did.

_[EdGluskin67]: Yeah? I’m glad._

Then he added.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’ve been thinking a lot about you._

_[Perl2536]: Oh yeah? What about?_

It was Waylon’s turn to be coy, and he tried to ignore the heat crawling over his neck again.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’ve been thinking about those soft-looking lips, and how I really want to kiss you._

There was no ignoring the heat now, as it had spread across his cheeks as well. Waylon was about to respond when he realized the little pencil was still moving.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’ve been thinking about holding you close, feeling the curve of your back under my fingers._

Oh. Were they really doing this? Waylon blushed profusely while trying to think of something to say. Anything, really, but his brain seemed to have been shut off. Meanwhile, Ed was still writing.

_[EdGluskin67]: You look smaller than me, and the thought of holding you close drives me crazy, darling._

Honestly, Waylon had considered the size difference as well, if the picture Ed had sent had been anything to go by.

_[Perl2536]: Honestly I have too… I like a man who’ll make me feel totally helpless in his arms._

There was a brief pause before Eddie answered.

_[EdGluskin67]: I like the sound of that very much._

_[Perl2536]: I liked the sound of your hands on my back… I bet you have big hands._

Waylon didn’t think about the double meaning before he’d already sent the message, and he shook his head. “Dammit, Waylon, get it together,” he mumbled, before typing out another reply.

_[Perl2536]: I can’t stop thinking about that picture you sent. The look on your face, I keep imagining you looking at me like that in real life._

_[EdGluskin67]: I feel like we’re crossing some sort of boundary now, don’t you think?_

_[Perl2536]: But I want to. God, Ed, I really want to._

It took almost twenty seconds before Ed responded.

_[EdGluskin67]: You’re a sin, darling. I can’t say no to you._

Waylon shifted on the couch, brushing his knuckles against the increasingly more insistent bulge between his legs, giving a shuddering sigh at the contact.

_[EdGluskin67]: I would absolutely love to ravish you._

Waylon made an embarrassing sound in the back of his throat, pushing his hand harder against himself.

_[EdGluskin67]: But slowly, so you would beg me for more._

_[Perl2536]: Oh dear God. Yes._

_[EdGluskin67]: Would you like that, darling? For me to ravish you?_

_[Perl2536]: Yes. A million times yes. I want to touch you. I want to feel you._

He wanted more than to feel Ed, his hand was already under the waistband of his sweatpants, palming his cock.

_[Perl2536]: I want you to pin me down with your naked body._

_[EdGluskin67]: Such a minx. I would absolutely love to do that._

Waylon shifted in his seat again, pushing the laptop further onto the table so he could move to a more comfortable position. He briefly wondered if he should suggest them turning on their webcams, but he quickly decided against it; His hair was still spiked out awkwardly from sleeping, and he felt way too self-conscious for something like that so quickly. Despite… Well, despite what they were doing.

_[Perl2536]: I’m touching myself._

He wanted to hide his face after saying it, but closed his eyes for a moment instead, enjoying the feeling of his fingers tightening around his cock. The position was still restrictive, though, so he finally just pulled his sweatpants down below his knees, spreading his legs out so he could get a decent grip. Then he stared at the screen with lowered lashes.

_[EdGluskin67]: Your teasing is bordering on painful for me here, darling. You really are a sin._

Waylon barked out a laugh. He could definitely agree, his balls were aching with suppressed desire, his cock so hard it was almost uncomfortable.

_[Perl2536]: What would you do with me if you were here right now?_

_[EdGluskin67]: While I would like to imagine I would go slow, right now I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to contain myself._

Waylon bit down on his lip with a whimper.

_[EdGluskin67]: I want to touch every inch of you. I want to kiss every part of you._

Fucking hell. Waylon had been served a wide array of various types of sexting online, but Ed was the first to actually make him ache for it. Probably because he seemed as interested as Waylon for it to be something more.

_[EdGluskin67]: I want to be inside you._

Waylon actually keened a little, jerking himself off faster. He was gonna come if Ed kept it up, and he felt bad that he didn’t reciprocate more.

_[Perl2536]: I wanna feel you inside me so bad. Fuck, I’m close already._

_[EdGluskin67]: Wish I could watch your face as you climax, with me deep inside you._

With a groan Waylon squeezed his cock harder, trying to stop the inevitable, letting his head drop back. He was so fucking close, so close… Just another few pumps of his fist and he was gonna-

“Surprise!” Miles yelled as he more or less kicked the door open, arms filled with greasy take-out bags. “Get ready for- _Fuck_!”

Waylon shrieked and tried to cover himself, while Miles just stared at him in wide eyed horror.

For a few seconds, at least, before he burst out laughing.

“Did I interrupt something?” He slammed the door shut with his hip. “Are you really jerking off in the living room?”

“Miles,” Waylon cried, trying to pull his pants back up while covering himself with a pillow. “Turn around!”

“You’re washing that pillow, man,” Miles laughed and shook his head. “You hungry?”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Waylon hissed.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Miles leered, before going into the kitchen long enough for Waylon to pull his pants back on. “You want Chinese or Indian? I got both.” He leaned back out of the doorway. “And Italian.”

“Jesus, Miles, you weren’t-” Waylon rubbed his face and stared at the screen.

_[EdGluskin67]: You went quiet…_

_[EdGluskin67]: Everything okay?_

With another groan, Waylon replied, biting the inside of his cheek.

_[Perl2536]: A friend suddenly stopped by and scared me half to death, horrible timing, I’m sorry._

There was a slight pause before Ed replied.

_[EdGluskin67]: The unpredictability of online chatting, darling._

Wasn’t that just the truth. Waylon stared at the sentence, feeling utterly forlorn, while Miles banged about in the kitchen.

_[Perl2536]: Rain Check?_

The answer came straight away, causing Waylon to smile.

_[EdGluskin67]: Of course._

They quickly said goodbye, and Waylon reluctantly closed the web page. No way he would have been able to chat with him normally after this, even if Miles hadn’t come home. Because even though his erection had wilted, arousal was still pulsating thickly within him.

“So what will it be?” Miles asked, poking his head out of the kitchen again. In his arms were various takeout boxes, some so greasy they were borderline see-through.

“Italian,” Waylon said with a defeated sigh, closing the laptop.

So close, yet so far away.


	5. Eddie

Friday rolled around far quicker than Eddie had anticipated, and he gave the laptop a wistful stare as he buttoned up his shirt. Truth was he’d much rather spend the evening with Perl, but he supposed it was healthy for him to go out with friends for a while. Best not to obsess too much, too fast, and scare her away…

… Well, that’s what he tried to convince himself of, anyhow.

He gave the computer another, longer, glance, before stepping out into the hallway and down the stairs into the shop below.

Hell, at this point he’d rather deal with stressed brides-to-be and their mothers, than a night out with Frank and the guys. Knowing Frank, there was no way Perl wouldn’t be the first thing addressed.

With a sigh he closed the door behind him.  
  


* * *

  
“Eddie’s got himself a girlfriend,” Frank said as soon as Eddie appeared. Of course he did.

“Do not,” Eddie sniffed, to which Dennis made a strange, hiccup-y laugh, before he covered his mouth and turned his head away.

“Who’s it this time?” Chris grumbled from behind his hand of cards. He didn’t even bother looking up at Eddie’s face, and Eddie felt more than a little miffed.

“What do you mean ‘this time’?” Eddie asked, and as soon as he got seated, Frank immediately slid an ice-cold beer across the table, straight into Eddie’s hand.

“Oh, aren’t you always lusting after someone or another?” Chris still wasn’t looking up, too preoccupied with his cards.

“Lusting?!” Eddie was more than a little insulted by that gross undermining of his feelings. “I’ll have you know that she’s-”

“It’s more than just lusting, pal,” Frank said, waggling his eyebrows. “This one is special.”

“Thank you, Frank,” Eddie said, and collected his own hand of cards, hiding them from Dennis who tried to catch a glimpse. “Perl is special.”

“Pearl? Who the hell names their kid ‘Pearl’?” Chris huffed, and placed his cards face down on the table before finally looking up.

“It’s not-”

“It’s her screen name,” Frank explained gleefully, his eyes sparkling. “P-E-R-L. It’s official, boys. Eddie’s joined the twenty-first century.”

“A-about b-bloody thy-time,” Dennis cackled.

While Eddie sniffed, Frank joined Dennis with a cackle of his own, opening his bottle of beer against the corner of the table. Chris was still watching him with narrowed eyes.

“You know I gotta say something if you start behaving like before, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Eddie gritted. He wanted to say something about feeling like a child in front of the headmaster, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Chris.

“Jeez, boys, I didn’t invite you all over for this,” Frank said, tossing out new cards for each of them. “I wanted to have a nice man’s night, ya know? No talks of dames or problems, just us guys, hanging out.”

“Where’s Pyro and Martin?”

“Couldn’t make it,” Frank said, but didn’t explain any further before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen in the back.

As soon as he did, Dennis reached over and tried to flip Frank’s cards, only to have Chris smack his fingers.

“Manners,” he said sternly.

“G-gee, man, I was j-just curious.”

“Yeah, you’re always ‘just curious’,” Chris grumbled, and smacked Dennis’ hand again when he tried yet again to reach over. Eddie was getting a headache.

“Why do I always agree to this?” he asked no-one in particular.

“The free beer?” Frank suggested as he came back from the kitchen with a huge platter of food he placed between them. “Tried a new recipe for ribs. Lemme know what you guys think.”

He placed a large platter of glazed ribs down on the table. No side dishes or anything else, just a huge plate of meat. Frank in a nutshell. None of the other guys seemed to mind; Chris and Dennis immediately tore into the meat, licking their fingers before picking their cards back up. Guess that explained the tacky cards. Eddie absentmindedly wiped his hand on his thigh.

“S-so tell us, E-Eddie. Puh-Perl?”

Fighting a weak smile, Eddie tried to figure out what to do. Sure, part of him really wanted to talk about Perl, but another, larger part, wanted to keep it away from Chris’ cynicism and Dennis’ admittedly infectious enthusiasm. Neither one was good for his mental state.

“I thought we all agreed that we wouldn’t talk about women?” Eddie asked, trying to dodge the question all together.

“Frank agreed. We didn’t,” Chris gruffed behind his cards, and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Go ahead, Eddie,” Frank gave a deep sigh. “Tell ‘em about Perl.”

“She’s clever, funny, compassionate and kind.” Eddie got his wallet out to Frank’s amusement, and pulled out the picture of Perl. “And she’s pretty.” He gave the picture to Dennis, who gawked at it for a while, before handing it over to Chris.

“That her brother or something?” Chris huffed. “Kinda think he’s prettier than she is.”

Eddie creased his brows. Honestly, he hadn’t asked Perl about the man in the picture, and when Chris handed it back to Eddie, he took a moment to look at him.

They looked like siblings, both with blonde hair and slender builds. Eddie narrowed his eyes and looked at the man’s face. He looked young and carefree, with a shy little smile.

“I don’t know who he is,” Eddie admitted, and put the photograph back in his wallet.

“P-perhaps h-her boyfriend,” Dennis suggested, and was too busy tearing into the ribs to notice Eddie’s angry glare across the table.

“I really rather doubt she’d-”

“Hah! Maybe she has tens of boyfriends!” Frank interrupted with a bark of a laugh. “Maybe that’s how she pays rent. Has she asked you for rent money yet, Eddie?”

“... No.” Eddie gritted, but the others were laughing so hard they probably didn’t hear him.

“She looks about half your age, she has to be lookin’ for some kinda sugar daddy,” Chris said dryly, still studying his cards.

“Or just a daddy,” Frank giggled into his beer, suds sticking to his mustache and beard.

God, Eddie had known it would be a bad idea from the start, but he never learned. He gave a defeated sigh and placed his cards down on the table.

This was going to be a very long night.  
  


* * *

  
It was too late for there to be a real possibility that Perl was on, but Eddie still turned his laptop on, waiting in anticipation as the logo flashed across the screen.

He didn’t waste much time before logging on to the chatting website, heart racing as he scanned the names on the list, only for it to sink when he realized she wasn’t on. Eddie sighed and leaned back, running a hand over his face. Well, he’d known there was a possibility she wouldn’t-

There was a soft pinging noise coming from the machine, and for a moment he thought Perl had logged on as well. He shot forward, eagerly looking at the pop-up window, only to be disappointed by an unknown name.

_[CockSure]; Hey._

CockSure? Eddie creased his forehead and stared at the name. How odd. He closed the window and leaned back in the chair. Well, it was late it the day, anyway. The best thing to do would be to just go to bed and - He had just closed his eyes when there was another notification. Eddie opened one eye, and then the other, staring at the new message.

_[CockSure]; Yo, I know you’re there._

Eddie startled and bolted upright, hiding behind the chair. Sure, Frank had told him that people could hack into his camera, but he hadn’t thought it could happen so quickly. He glanced over the back of the chair.

_[CockSure]; Please, man. I’m bored._

That didn’t sound like someone who was spying on him. Eddie glared at the little black dot over his screen before slinking out behind the chair. Then he went through the drawer to his left, before he finally found what he needed. He tried not to stare into the all-seeing eye of the camera as he taped a battered old business card over it. There.

Eddie reluctantly sat back down and stared at the message. As he watched, the other person sent him a smiley face. With a sigh, Eddie typed a reply.

_[EdGluskin67]: Hello. Might I ask who this is?_

The answer came so quickly Eddie wondered if the person had it already written out.

_[CockSure]; Just a lonely soldier, looking for love ;)_

Eddie blinked.

_[EdGluskin67]: Excuse me?_

_[CockSure]; We’re all here for the same reason, right? ;)_

Well, that wasn’t a lie, was it? Unless you counted all those people namely out for sex. Eddie wrinkled his nose.

_[EdGluskin67]: And what’s that, exactly?_

CockSure sent a moving picture of a smiley face waggling his eyebrows. It reminded Eddie far too much of Frank, and he nearly growled at the screen.

_[CockSure]; I mean, we all come here for a little quick and easy, right? I can be both, if you wanna ;)_

Eddie was too dumbfounded to answer, and just watched as Cocksure wrote out another message.

_[CockSure]; Didn’t you come here for a little strange?_

With an angry scoff, Eddie wrote a reply.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m afraid not. I came for some stimulating conversation in other ways than that, and I found someone for that._

_[CockSure]; Just one?_

Again with that waggling smiley face. Ugh.

_[EdGluskin67]: Just one._

_[CockSure]; Why keep it at one when you can have two? Or three. I won’t judge ;)_

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, he didn’t have to reply, did he? He owed this person no favors after all. But…

_[EdGluskin67]: Because I found the most beautiful human being I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking with. No one else compares._

There was a long pause before CockSure wrote something again.

_[CockSure]; I take it you’re not the cheating kind? ;) I can be very discreet ;)_

Eddie felt that familiar spark of rage inside him, but he took his therapist’s advice and breathed calmly for half a minute. He felt like a declawed predator.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m absolutely not the cheating kind, and I’m ending this conversation right now._

_[CockSure]; Damn. Well, can’t fault a guy for trying, right?_

Eddie closed the pop up window before he bit out a reply, and leaned back in his chair. He shouldn’t be disappointed, he already knew the possibility of Perl being there was slim to none, but he suddenly felt very much alone. The stranger on the chatting website hadn’t helped at all.

With a sigh he closed the laptop, and went to bed.


	6. Waylon

Waylon was half-asleep when Miles decided to jump into bed with him, scaring him half to death in the process.

“Miles, wha- Ugh! Get _off_!” Waylon tried to push Miles’ solid weight off, but Miles kept on climbing onto him.

“He said you’re the most beautiful person in the world,” Miles whispered, eyes wide in the dim lighting of the room. Waylon blinked up at him.

“He what? What? Who?” Waylon suddenly felt wide awake. “Ed? You talked to him?”

“Don’t worry,” Miles wheezed, eyes still wide as a perching owl. “I drove downtown to the public library and used a proxy from there. He won't find the source. Ed said you were- Hold on.” Miles fumbled around in his pocket, before pulling up a laminated piece of paper. “ _'-the most beautiful human being I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking with. No one else compares.'_ ”

For a moment Waylon wasn’t sure if he was hot or cold, or if the world had gone bright. He sucked in a breath. “He said that?”

“Look for yourself,” Miles handed him the note, but he didn’t move.

“You… actually laminated it?” Waylon took the piece of paper, and read the conversation, only to blush deeply. “He said this?”

“Yeah, man, he did!” Miles looked smug and happy. Like he always did, really.

“Wow…” Waylon breathed.

“Which is why I think it’s about time we went to Leadville.” Miles finally climbed off of Waylon’s thighs, and dumped down next to him in the bed. “It’s the only logical conclusion.”

“Uh…” Waylon paled. “No, Miles. No.”

“‘No, Miles, no’? I’m not a dog, you know,” Miles sniffed, before he continued, “I swear, it’s gonna take you another five years to fucking build up the courage to meet up, and by that time he’ll be… He’ll be at least fifty-five.”

Waylon chose not to comment on Miles’ bad math, but just laid back in bed with the paper clutched at his side. This was madness. They couldn’t just-

“Going up there will just be fucking creepy, Miles. I’ve known him for a week.” Waylon finally hissed, the insanity of the invitation finally sinking in.

“People get married faster than that, besides, he wanted to meet, right?”

“I’m not going.” Waylon shook his head. “It’s too soon, and honestly, really creepy.”

“You say creepy, I say romantic.” Miles beamed. “We could make it a road trip. Find some shitty-ass roadside motel like the old days, load up on beers and chips, eh?” He looked so hopeful Waylon almost didn’t have it in him to say no.

Almost.

“No, Miles.” Waylon almost wanted to say ‘No means no’ again, but he figured that would just break the poor guy’s heart.

“Waylo-o-on,” Miles whined. “We don’t even have to go stalk him up close! We can stalk from afar, to make sure he’s really who he says he is! If he isn’t, then more ice cream for us, right?”

It kind of did make sense to check him out, make sure Ed really was who he said he was. Better to find out now, than five months down the line. He'd heard enough stories of catfishing. Hell, he'd experienced it first hand.

“Hm.” Waylon shot him a sideways glare. “What’s sad is that you almost have a point.”

“Right?!” Miles grabbed his wrists and shook him. “We go out there, stalk him from a distance, and if he is who he says he is, then we swoop down like vultures and we-”

“Hold on,” Waylon laughed and put his hand up. “I can barely follow along with what you’re saying. And if we’re going, if being the keyword here, then I can’t just-”

“Listen, Waylon,” Miles interrupted, leaning forward and opening his eyes wide. “When do you ever let me do what I wanna do, huh?”

Waylon spluttered and laughed. “Uh, just about every single time? Do you even remember sophomore year? I know I never wanted to see a donkey show in-”

“But this is important!”

“You said that about the donkey show too!” Waylon sighed and sobered up for a moment. “Why is this even important to you? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Why do you automatically think I’m hiding stuff from you?” Miles sniffed. “Listen, you haven’t been yourself since Jer the asshole, and this past week you’ve-” Miles’ expression softened. “I don’t wanna go all gay on you, but it’s been nice seeing you happy again.”

“Oh, Miles,” Waylon groaned. “You’re trying to guilt trip me into going, aren’t you?”

Miles grinned. “Is it working?”  
  


* * *

  
Of course it worked.

Miles sang along with the songs on the radio, thrumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He was in a disgustingly cheerful mood, when all Waylon wanted to do was throw up. They’d left Denver behind, and the city scenery had given way to forests and mountains.

It was amazing, really, how everything so drastically changed in just a small hour. Gone were skyscrapers and generic coffee shops, gone were the people rushing to get to and from work. Gone were all the sounds that came with a city, replaced by the wind and their car on the open road.

Maybe Ed had the right idea. Perhaps it was better to live in a rural area. It would be nice to go somewhere he could actually lower his shoulders, get away from the bustle of the city. Perhaps rural life was-

“What if he’s a total hick?” Miles asked, laughing out loud. “Sure, he don’t look like one, but what if he lives in a shack and talks like my cousin Cletus.” He then continued on with some mildly insulting attempts at rural dialects.

“You do not have a cousin named Cletus.” Waylon swatted Miles’ arm. “And he’s not gonna be a hick.”

Miles snorted. “He lives in _Leadville_ , though.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Waylon mumbled, resting his forehead against the cool window. “I think I have a fever. We should turn around.”

“You’re just nervous, relax.”

“And my stomach hurts.”

“That might actually be the triple glazed donuts you just wolfed down.” Miles laughed.

With a frown Waylon tore himself away from the window, staring at the road ahead instead.

“I feel sick.”

“Waylon, buddy, calm down. This guy is fucking smitten with you.” Miles patted his thigh. “And why wouldn’t he be? You’re a catch!” Miles laughed. “Well, aside from your terrible taste in movies and awful sense of style.”

“Gee, thanks,” Waylon grumbled.

“Dude, cheer up. If you’re willing to jerk off in the living room to this guy, then I guess he’s something special.” Miles laughed and turned up the volume so he couldn’t hear Waylon’s halfway embarrassed, halfway angry hiss.

This was going to be a very long ride.  
  


* * *

  
Waylon never knew a trip that took less than two hours could feel like an eternity, but it had. Halfway there, Miles had procured a ball-point pen, and he had clutched it in one hand, furiously clicking the retractable spring. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t done it completely out of tune with the music he was playing, howling along to the lyrics despite not knowing them.

When he said he needed to stop for gas and a trip to the restroom, Waylon had been relieved.

Luckily the town they were driving through - a small, flat affair, lined with what looked like ski lodges - had a decent gas station and even a Wendy’s. Waylon was leaned against the car, trying to get some feeling back in his legs. He’d finally confiscated the pen, only to press his thumb against the top of it, clicking it in a staccato rhythm himself. He groaned.

“Practicing?” Miles came up from behind with a big grin, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Waylon mumbled, finally putting the pen in his pocket.

Pointedly ignoring Waylon’s obvious signs of discomfort, Miles looked up at the restaurant next to them. “You hungry?” Miles gave his hands a final rub on his jeans before smiling. “I could kill for a double cheeseburger.”

Waylon’s stomach did a sickly lurch at the idea, and he groaned again. “Absolutely not. I feel sick.”

“Because we’re close to Leadville now?” Miles grinned. “Can you feel Ed’s presence?”

“You’re a dick.” Waylon put his arms around himself, clutching his middle. “You have no empathy.”

“Hah!” Miles winked and started walking towards the entrance. “Don’t even know how to spell it.”

It was strange, but Waylon almost thought he _could_ feel Ed’s presence. Something pulling from the pit of his stomach. He shook his head and followed Miles. If anything, it was his nervousness that let itself be known full force, or - the far more likely option - the three donuts he’d eaten earlier.

Still, he cast a long glance behind him as he walked into the restaurant, wondering just what Eddie was doing at that moment, and if he somehow knew Waylon was coming.


	7. Eddie

Sunlight played across the counter of Frank’s diner, illuminating breadcrumbs and splatters of grease, but for once Eddie paid them no mind.

Instead he sat with his chin rested on his hand, stirring his coffee, thinking deeply about nothing in particular. Just a gently interwoven strings of images of him and Perl.

At least he did until Frank snapped his fingers in front of Eddie’s face.

“Wow, far away, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry.” Eddie shook his head. “I just-”

“Oh yeah, I know what you were thinking about,” Frank leered. “You always look kinda scary when you’re imagining what to do to Perl.”

“You have an uncanny ability to make the purest of thoughts into something vile,” Eddie said dryly and took a sip of coffee. It had gone tepid in the time it had taken him to daydream, and he grimaced.

“Nothing wholesome about what you were just thinking about, my friend.” Frank poured him a fresh cup of coffee, which took some of the sting out of the words.

“Actually, it was.” Eddie took another sip, almost burning his tongue in the process. “There’s something about her, something I-” Eddie shook his head with a smile. “Listen to me. I’m a sentimental old fool.”

When he looked up at Frank, he was staring at him with a crease between his eyebrows. He almost looked uncertain, and that was something new. Frank rarely thought too hard about anything, just jumped right into any situation and hoped for the best.

“She really means a lot to you, huh?” he asked, and that uncertainty carried over to his tone of voice.

“She does.” Eddie stared down at his cup. “If you’d have told me a month ago that I’d fall for someone I haven’t even met I would have laughed at you, but…”

“But here you are.” Frank finished for him.

“Here I am.” Eddie gave a wistful sigh and warmed the tips of his fingers to the point of near-pain on the porcelain cup.

Frank gave a sigh as well, rubbing his hands up and down on his apron. “Listen,” he said, and his voice had taken on a somber tone. “I’d hate to see you get hurt, and-” Another sigh. “Just be careful, alright?”

“This is very uncharacteristic.” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Any reason for this?”

“No!” Frank said, a little too loud and a little too quickly for it to sound convincing. “No,” he repeated, softer this time. “Just a good advice in general.”

“I suppose,” Eddie said, not wholly convinced.

Luckily for Frank, Chris entered the diner just then. He gave them a nod before walking over, and, as usual, most people moved away from him or scooted their chairs closer to the table. With his impressive height and girth most people seemed to want to give him room, his size only punctuated by his stern expression.

“Hey Chris!” Frank called out, and if Eddie didn’t know better he’d say he was relieved.

“Hey,” Chris grumbled, and took a seat next to Eddie. “For the love of God, give me some coffee.”

“Rough night?” Frank wasted little time in giving the man a fresh cup. Nobody wanted to be on Chris’ bad side after a bad day at work.

“That’s just the half of it. Some vermin broke into the facility, and broke through one of the weak spots on the second floor when I tried to apprehend them." Chris dragged his hand over his face with a grimace. "I need a raise.”

“Why you have to patrol a dusty, abandoned mental asylum is beyond me anyway.”

“That’s exactly why, though.” Chris had a deep gulp of coffee. “’S creepy and abandoned. Damn kids most of the time. Did you know they bring cameras? Put them on one of those online places. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m in half of them.”

“Look on the bright side!” Frank leaned over the counter to slap his shoulder. “You’re famous!”

“Yeah, well,” Chris grumbled and focused on his cup of coffee. “What are you guys up to?”

“We’ve been talking about Eddie’s girlfriend, actually.”

“Yeah?” Chris sounded bored. “What about?”

“Excuse me?” Eddie gave an indignant huff. “I’m sitting right here.”

“Just told him to be careful.” Frank eyed Eddie, his eyebrows pulled together again.

“Good advice,” Chris agreed. “I mean, you’ve seen some of them catfishing shows, haven’t you?”

“Catfishing?” Eddie frowned. “What’s that?”

“Oh my God.” Chris shook his head. “Have you been locked in a cell these past twenty years? Catfishing is when someone pretends to be someone else online.”

“But…” Eddie looked from Chris and over to Frank. “Why?”

“For a relationship?” Frank suggested. “For fun?"

“Wouldn’t it just be painfully obvious when they do meet?”

Chris snorted into his cup of coffee.

“That’s why they rarely meet,” Frank explained patiently. “So keep that in mind with Perl.”

“I will.” Eddie tried not to get angry, he knew Frank was just looking out for him after all. “Anyway, I should head back. Get lunch before _the brides_ come.”

“You make it sound so foreboding,” Frank laughed. “It’s not like you love all the women with their soft curves and soft fabrics.”

“Sounds good on paper,” Eddie agreed. “Until you see them. Stressed out, too busy on whatever diet they think will make them look better, except it just makes them cranky and-” Eddie groaned. “Should have stuck with men’s fashion.”

“Uh-huh.” Frank was leering again. “Anyway, you know you can just eat lunch here, right?”

Eddie tried to hide the way he looked around the kitchen behind Frank, taking in the dirty pots stacked in the dripping sink, and the questionable meat currently thawing on the counter.

“It’s a mystery. Anyway, you two have a good day,” Eddie said, cutting off whatever Frank undoubtedly was going to say. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Any time, friend.” Frank went back to wiping down the counter with a rag that would surely only make the counter dirtier. “Lemme know how things go with Perl.”

“See ya later, Eddie,” Chris said.

Eddie merely waved his hand in a way that could be both affirmative or dismissively, and left the diner, wondering again why he kept going there every single lunch break, despite never actually eating anything. He looked back at his friends on his way out, who now had their heads close together. They looked like a pair of gossiping old women. Eddie smiled.

On his way back to his apartment, he stopped by the nearest grocery store for something quick and easy for supper, imagining all the ways he’d prepare food if Perl was there waiting for him. As it was, he simply bought some canned soup and pre-made sandwiches, knowing his mother would roll over in her grave if she knew.

Truth was that he wanted to talk to Perl more than he wanted to prepare a decent meal.

He shook his head at himself as he unlocked the door, feeling more than ever like a hormonal teenager.

The store was always a little eerie without customers, not that Eddie cared much about it, but he always took care crossing the floor, and going up the staircase to his apartment above the store as quickly as he could. Once safely within the confines of his apartment, he took off his coat and scarf, and got ready for what he hoped could be a quiet moment with Perl.

Thinking about how they had left off, and how they had agreed to continue another day made Eddie rush through the tasks of washing his hands and preparing his meager meal, before going into the study. Perhaps their moment wouldn't be so quiet at all.

When he opened up the chatting program, a pop-up immediately shot up on his screen, and he was surprised and happy, until he realized Perl was offline.

_[Perl2536]: Hey, Eddie. Sending you this early in the morning. I have to help a friend with something, but I should be on sporadically. (Sending this so you don’t think I’ve ditched you or something :P)_

_[Perl2536]: Maybe cheesy, but I’ll miss you until I see you again._

With a smile that skirted the edge between melancholic and happy, Eddie wrote out a response.

_[EdGluskin67]: I can’t wait to see you, darling._

With a sigh he leaned back in his chair, wishing they'd see each other in real life soon, and not just on the screen of a computer.


	8. Waylon

Leadville looked like Waylon had expected, and what Google maps had told him. The only word he knew that properly described it was _quaint_.

“Hah!” Miles barked. “He’s definitely a hick!”

“Shhh,” Waylon hissed, batting Miles’ arm. “Be quiet.”

They were parked outside one of those shitty roadside motels Miles had talked about, and Waylon’s stomach was protesting wildly at the prospect of even being in the same town as Ed.

“So are we sharing a room, or what?” Miles waggled his eyebrows. “Or are you hoping you’ll get lucky?”

Heat flared in Waylon’s cheeks again, and Miles burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, your fucking face!” He pretended to wipe tears from his eyes - unless they were actually real tears - and opened his car door. “We’ll get one room for now, we’ll get another one if you get lucky, I doubt this shit-stain sees a lot of customers, anyway- Oh, hello!”

A surly looking woman was smoking outside the reception area, eyeing Miles with badly veiled animosity.

“You’re the owner?” he continued. “Lovely place-”

Waylon didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, because Miles shut the door behind him and made his way to the office, still chatting with the woman. He shook his head and rolled down the window, hiding his face in the shadow of the interior. He knew it was unlikely that Ed was skulking about motel parking lots, but he still didn’t feel too safe.

Outside the battered old parking lot, there were small shops and hotels lining the road, all of them in much better condition than the motel Miles had found. Standard operation when it came to Miles, really.

Miles returned to the car about fifteen minutes later, looking a bit sweaty, and he waved a key in Waylon’s general direction.

“O-oh boy,” he exclaimed when Waylon exited the car. “That took a lot of sweet-talking to get on her good side.”

“Yeah, no wonder, you did call her place of business a ‘shit-stain’.”

Miles waved him off and circled around the car to the back, and pulled two large backpacks and a suitcase from the trunk of the car.

“Jesus, how long are you planning on staying?” Waylon pulled out his own, moderately sized, backpack from the backseat.

“You don’t understand,” Miles whispered, slinging one backpack over one shoulder, while hanging the other off the crook of his arm. “These are _important_.” He tried to tap his nose, but failed due to the backpack still dangling off his arm.

“Did you bring all your spy equipment?” Waylon asked, mostly in jest, and spluttered when Miles immediately started shaking his head with his eyes opened wide. “Oh God, you did, didn’t you?”

“We’re here to spy, aren’t we?” Miles hissed. “Don’t blow our cover!”

They walked together to a motel in the far end of the courtyard, and Miles unlocked the door. The daylight barely crept through the opened door and the stained curtains, but it was enough to showcase a stained carpet and cheap, peeling wood veneer furniture.

The place really was a shit-stain, Waylon thought, and wrinkled his nose as he was assaulted by the reek of stale cigarette smoke and take out. Miles didn't seem to notice, he just slung his backpack on one of the queen-sized bed with a self-satisfied grunt.

“This is perfect,” he announced, and placed his suitcase at the edge of the bed. “Now, gather round children, and see what uncle Miles brought!”

“You’re an idiot,” Waylon groaned, but he drew closer all the same.  
  


* * *

  
“I feel ridiculous,” Waylon hissed, and next to him Miles chuckled.

“No wonder, ‘cause you kinda look ridiculous too.”

Somehow Miles had convinced Waylon to wear an oversized poncho and a wide-brimmed cap, with an old camera dangling around his neck.

“You look like a tourist. It’s the perfect cover.”

“I think I look like a bad spy,” Waylon mumbled, and allowed Miles to drag him along a narrow side street.

“Eddie’s shop is just around here, we should keep a tab on him.” Miles pulled him into an alley. How he’d already memorized the streets was disconcerting, but not surprising.

“Poor guy,” Waylon grunted as Miles gave him a particularly harsh yank.

“Yeah, poor guy,” Miles mocked. “It’s so terrible to be loved.”

“Excuse me?” Waylon said indignantly. “I do not love him!”

“You’d have his damn babies if you had ovaries, my friend.” Then, added so quickly that Waylon didn’t have the chance to protest. “Okay, there it is.”

Across the street, nestled in between a coffee shop and a bookstore, was a storefront Waylon had only ever seen on Google Maps, but that seemed oddly familiar regardless.

“There’s a bar here, we can pretend to have a few beers and scope out the place,” Miles said, pulling Waylon into a small fenced off area in front of a small bar, with wrought iron tables and chairs.

“How do we pretend to have beers?” Waylon asked, a little dazed. Perhaps it was the poncho, but he was getting too damn warm. Perhaps it was simply the fact that they were here, in Leadville, about to spy on the man Waylon had jerked off to.

Yeah, it was probably that.

Miles didn’t reply, he just laughed and pushed Waylon into a chair, before disappearing into the bar.

Waylon sat there, shell-shocked and numb, starting at the store-front across the street. If Eddie came out and found him here, he’d-

“Man, the beer here is fucking cheap!” Miles said, placing two glasses of beer on the table before dumping down in the chair next to Waylon. “No wonder people live here. Has he come out yet?”

“No.” Waylon turned. “It doesn’t look very natural, you know, when you’re sitting next to me like that.”

And it really didn’t. They were sitting side by side, both perched in the direction of Eddie’s store. With Miles’ old leather jacket and messy hair, and whatever Waylon was supposed to be wearing, they looked more out of place than if Waylon had just come as himself.

“Nah, just taking in the views,” Miles said with a wink, leaning back and scratching the bridge of his nose. “Or the sun, I dunno.”

It was surprisingly warm for the season, and Waylon knew he’d enjoy it, had his stomach not been in knots. He tried to follow Miles’ example, tilting his face towards the sun, but he wasn’t able to take his eyes off the shop across the street.

People would go into Ed’s shop every now and then, some leaving with printed bags with silk paper poking through, but Ed himself was yet to make an appearance.

“Perhaps we should go in and buy a suit,” Miles suggested, laughing when Waylon choked on his beer. “Do you think he does fetish work? Maybe his idea of a suit are those gimp suits? Would rubber do it for ya, Way-Way?”

It was pretty obvious what Miles was doing. He was trying to ease Waylon’s frayed nerves, and Waylon appreciated the effort. Too bad it wasn’t working. If anything, the comment made him wonder if Ed really could have a fetish dungeon down under his store. Was there anything he had said that would have indicated any inclinations towards that? Waylon wasn’t sure. By this point he wasn’t sure it would even be a deal breaker. He let out a long, shivering breath.

“Wow, you’re a mess,” Miles said, glancing sideways at Waylon with a furrow between his brows. It looked as if he wanted to say something else, before he suddenly grabbed Waylon’s arm in an iron grip. “Look!” he wheezed. “It’s Mr. Opossum.”

“What?”

“Mr. Beard!” Miles hissed insistingly. “The _hick_!”

Finally Miles gave up and just grabbed a hold of Waylon’s chin, moving his head in the right direction. And there, strolling down the side of the street, was the other man from Ed’s photograph. His beard was every bit as scraggly as in the picture, and Waylon’s heart did a curious double-take. This was the first sign that Ed was real.

“Are you sure that isn’t Ed himself?” Miles laughed. “Man, he looks even nuttier in real life.”

“I’m sure,” Waylon mumbled, knowing he couldn’t say why he knew. He wasn’t about to tell Miles about the photograph Ed had sent.

“I mean, have you seen him live on cam?” Miles was still laughing.

“No, but-” Come to think of it, Ed had taken a long time getting that photograph. Waylon suddenly felt a bit cold.

Mr. Opossum, as Miles so lovingly had dubbed the man, was now close enough that they could hear him whistle off-key, before entering Ed’s shop.

“Perhaps he’ll lure our prey out into the open,” Miles whispered, so distracted that when he lowered his glass, he’d gotten a rather attractive foam mustache.

For once, their thoughts actually mirrored, though Waylon wouldn’t exactly call Ed _prey_. He was far too big and-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Miles said dryly, wiping the foam off his top lip with his sleeve. “You always look kinda dopey when you do.”

“Do not,” Waylon sniffed.

“Fucking hell, you- Oh!”

Already knowing what Miles was so focused on, Waylon snapped his head in the direction of the store, just in time to see Ed locking the door behind him.

“Holy shit…” Waylon’s voice trailed off.

True to his photograph, Ed was tall, with broad shoulders tapering down into a narrow waist and hips. He was frowning at Mr. Opossum, who was gesturing wildly, while flipping the collar of his waistcoat.

“Dude’s _tall_!” Miles said begrudgingly. “Kinda freakishly tall, actually.”

They were too far away to hear what they said, but Mr. Opossum burst out laughing, slapping Ed’s back, and that actually coaxed a small smile from Ed, along with a shake of his head. At this point, Waylon’s heart was beating so hard he felt faint.

The two walked off in the opposite direction from where Mr. Opossum had come from, said man still gesturing and laughing.

“Well, come on then!” Miles grabbed the hem of Waylon’s poncho, nearly pulling it off in the progress. “We gotta follow them!”

“What?” Waylon was too stunned to disagree or pull back, and just let Miles yank him to his feet.

“I already paid for the beer, come on!”

The thrill of the hunt had made Miles giddy, and they half-jogged on the opposite side of the street from where Ed was walking, trying to catch up.

“Miles!” Waylon tried to keep up with him without much avail, but Miles still had a firm grip on his wrist and pulled him along regardless. “What are we gonna do if they see us?”

“They’re not gonna see us,” Miles whispered, and pulled Waylon into a back-alley, and onto a parallel street. “We’re gonna get real close so don’t blow your cover.”

“We’re what?” Waylon sputtered, trying to break free from Miles’ iron grip. It was the darndest thing, really. Waylon could easily beat Miles in arm wrestling even on the worst of days, but when Miles was in one of his bloodhound modes, he was pretty much invincible.

They followed Ed and Mr. Opossum as they walked a few blocks over to a kitschy looking diner, Mr. Opossum opening up the door for Ed.

“Frank’s Diner?” Miles whispered. “Think it’s a chain?”

“I highly doubt it,” Waylon found himself whispering right back, and he immediately resented himself for it.

“Think I can plant a bug there?” Miles started patting his pockets absent-mindedly.

Waylon decided to ignore Miles’ madness, staring instead at the reflection of the windows, trying to get a peek inside. “What do we do now?”

“We move in for the kill, of course,” Miles said, straightening up in the process. “No one here knows my face and your disguise is flawless.”

Waylon paled. Deep down, he hoped Miles was joking, but at the same time, he knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t. “The kill?” he stammered.

“We sneak in, get close and see what we can see.” Miles tapped his nose. “Get it?”

“Not really, but-” Waylon didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Miles pulled him along. Despite the benign looking diner, with generic chrome details and neon signs, Waylon’s heart was beating so fast he was torn between worrying about passing out or throwing up. Not exactly the first impression he’d wanted to give.

Miles pushed the door open with his shoulder, and finally let go of Waylon so he could walk in on his own accord. Miles had gone from eerily focused to aloof as a sated cat, and he strolled unconcerned towards a small table near the counter.

At least there were other people in the diner, conversing loudly in an effort to drown out the cheesy music over the speakers.

With trembling legs, Waylon tried to exude the same carefree nonchalance as Miles, but his throat was dry and his hands clammy. At the counter, sitting with his back to them, sat Ed. They were drawing nearer, almost near enough to hear his voice, and oh God, Waylon could hear the deepness of it, even though he couldn’t make out any words.

Mr. Opossum was working behind the counter, pouring Ed a cup of coffee, and Miles’ back was trembling every so slightly, as if he was suppressing laughter.

Waylon swallowed thickly and tried to hide his face under the hat, angling his head away from the counter.

“Morning!” someone Waylon assumed was Mr. Opossum said cheerfully. “Be with ya in a moment!”

“Cheerio!” Miles replied, and sat down at the table.

“Doesn't that mean goodbye?” Waylon whispered.

“Guess that explains why he’s looking at me funny,” Miles replied, but he didn’t look all that concerned. “What are ya having?”

“Me?” Waylon hissed. “You really think I could keep anything down right now?”

Before Miles could say anything, Mr. Opossum came up to the table, carrying a stained notebook. “Name’s Frank, what can I get you gentlemen?”

“Frank, eh? You own this joint?” Miles scratched the back of his head. “I’ll have coffee and scrambled eggs, and ditto for my friend there.”

Waylon’s stomach lurched at the very thought of it.

“Two coffee, two scrambled eggs,” Frank repeated dutifully, scribbling something on his notebook. “And I sure do. My pride and joy.”

Waylon risked a glance up at Frank. It was definitely the guy from the photograph, although he looked slightly dirtier up close. He was smiling at Miles, but when he turned to look at Waylon he startled. He was quick to recover, smiling at Waylon as well, but the smile was strained and his eyes narrowed.

“I’ll go get your order straight away, boys,” he said, still staring at Waylon’s face. “Be back in a jiffy.”

With something resembling a smile, Waylon moved his chair closer to the table. Surely it was just his imagination. His nerves were frayed, there was no reason for him to-

“Wow, that was weird,” Miles commented, shattering any hope Waylon might have had that it was all in his head. “Does he know you or something?”

“You-” Waylon licked his lips. “You noticed that too?”

“Kinda hard not to,” Miles laughed. “He was staring at you so intently I wondered if he really was Ed for a while there.”

“Fucking hell,” Waylon cursed under his breath, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder.

Ed was still sitting with his back to him, and as Waylon watched, he cracked his neck from side to side, before rolling his wide shoulders back. They were close enough that Waylon could see his pulse beating along his neck, slow and steady. When he tore his eyes away, he found Frank staring at him again.

“Hey, Eddie,” Frank started, way too loud for it to sound natural, keeping eye contact all the while. Waylon suddenly felt faint. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Working all day,” Ed said, sounding far away in thought. “You know that.”

His voice. Waylon opened and closed his mouth a few times, before turning around. It wasn’t like he had imagined, it was even better.

“So you’re definitely spending the day at your tailor shop, then?” Frank continued, and Miles was paying close attention by this point, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Down the street?”

“Where else?” Ed was sounding slightly annoyed by this point. “Do I have another job I’m unaware of?”

Frank laughed. “Take it easy, big guy. You’ll live longer.” He paused. “Thought you were gonna talk to Perl or something.”

Waylon’s back went rigid, and he felt sweat prickling under his arms.

When Ed spoke again, his voice had gone soft. “Perl was gonna visit someone, so it’ll be just me for a while. Might as well work.”

“Well, when you see your boo again, give my regards, yeah?”

Ed scoffed, but his voice wasn’t unfriendly when he spoke again. “I will, Frank. I better be heading back anyway, thanks for the coffee.”

Waylon risked looking over his shoulder, watching as Ed crossed the floor and exited the diner. He was who he had said he was. For once Waylon’s love life seemed to go his way. His heart was beating so hard he felt lightheaded. They could finish their coffees, gain some courage, and then go over to his shop right away. In less than half an hour, he could be-

“Two coffee, two scrambled eggs,” Frank said, interrupting Waylon’s thoughts. He put two plates in front of them, overflowing with pale mush and toast. “I make excellent toast, yet my friend Eddie just orders the coffee. Pearls before swines, huh?” He grinned. “Enjoy your food, gentlemen.” And with that he disappeared back behind the counter, leaving Miles and Waylon utterly speechless.


	9. Eddie

Frank's diner had been filled with the buzz of people talking, and the sharp sound of cutlery against cheap porcelain, and in contrast Eddie's shop was saturated with a deafening silence.

It was finally past the initial afternoon rush, and it had quieted down enough for Eddie to work on some sketches. This used to be his favorite time of day, and he'd usually hum quietly along to the radio while sketching out new designs. At the moment, though, he felt slightly disconnected, his hands not fully doing what he wanted them to do, his humming off-key. When the old fashioned bell over the door rang, letting him know there was a customer, Eddie was only too happy to stand up from his seat with a welcoming smile.

Two young men had entered the store, and they both stood silently while looking around. One of them was a scruffy looking man with disheveled hair in a worn leather jacket who quickly disappeared further into the store when he saw Eddie, while the other, a nervous looking man with blonde hair and near delicate features stood staring at Eddie with wide eyes.

“Welcome to Gluskin’s Clothing and Tailoring, can I help you with anything?” Eddie asked, trying not to make it too obvious that he was keeping an eye on the other man currently trying on lacy women’s gloves.

The other one took a few steps closer, “E-Edward?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Eddie looked at him questioningly, raising one eyebrow.

“Edward was my father, I prefer Eddie,” he finally said, extending a large hand for the young man to shake. “What can I help you with?”

“Uh…” The man looked utterly perplexed for a moment, and Eddie creased his brow, lowering his hand.

He would ask if the man had happened upon the wrong store, but he had used Eddie’s name, so it was clear he was at the right place. Wedding nerves, then.

“Do you need a suit for your big day?” Eddie looked at the man’s hair and eyes, before glancing down over the man’s body. He was well-proportioned, if not a bit thin. “With your coloring I’d recommend grey, or greens if you’re adventurous.”

The man opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly perplexed, and Eddie suddenly felt a bit apprehensive. He frowned.

“Did you not come in for a fitting?”

“I-” The man visibly swallowed, and took a step back.

Eddie took a step forward, but with his larger stride he ended up far closer to the man than before. He looked down at him, trying to rack his mind on where he might have seen the man before. He seemed familiar somehow, but Eddie wasn’t sure if that meant meeting him in passing on the street, or if he was some long lost cousin on his mother’s side or something like that.

The man was currently staring up at him, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say the man was afraid.

"Do I know you?" Eddie asked quietly, not able to hide the tension in his voice. “Why are you here?”

A faint blush crept over the man’s face at that, and he stuttered something incomprehensible before backing away again, crashing his shoulder into one of the mannequins. It toppled dangerously for a few moments, before gravity won. Eddie was just close enough to catch the mannequin, saving the dress from the floor. In the commotion, though, the young man carefully slipped out the door and disappeared. Eddie cursed under his breath before putting the mannequin back in place, adjusting it carefully.

“You make quite an impact, eh?”

Eddie startled at the sound of a voice, and turned around. He’d thought himself alone again, but the man from before, the scruffy one trying on lacy gloves, was standing in front of him with a strange expression on his face. He was grinning, showing off teeth, but his eyes were narrowed. The two halves of his face didn’t match at all.

“May I help you?” Eddie asked, a tad more unfriendly than he meant to, and the man promptly shoved two pairs of gloves into Eddie’s hands.

“These,” he said. “They’ll make a great addition to my collection.” He tapped his nose once his hands were free. “If you know what I mean.”

Eddie didn’t quite know what that meant, and honestly, he didn’t care to.

Without a word, he retreated back to the counter, ringing them in. All the while being shamelessly studied by the other man.

“May I ask if you know the young man who just left the store?” Eddie couldn’t help himself, the whole situation had been so absurd.

“You mean Waylon?” The man scratched his cheek, and laughed. “Guess I answered your question without meaning to, huh?”

“Waylon,” Eddie repeated. He couldn’t say he knew a Waylon. Then something else occurred to him. “Why didn’t you mean to tell me?”

“Uuuuh.” The man glanced around the shop, his eyes working frantically back and forth between cream wedding dresses and accessories. Eddie was suspicious enough to think that meant he was trying to come up with a decent enough lie. “Doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“You’re his doctor?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“Nah,” the man laughed. “Now how much were those gloves?”

Eddie gritted his teeth and switched between glaring at the register and glaring at the man. “That would be 86 dollars. Do you want that gift-wrapped?”

The man whistled. “86 dollars? What are they, handsewn by virgins or something?”

“They’re handsewn by myself, actually,” Eddie said, his frown deepening when the man barked out a laugh.

“Hah! Potayto, potahto, am I right?”

Before Eddie could fully work out what the man had just said, he’d pulled out a wad of sweaty dollar bills, and he counted them out.

“Sixty-five, seventy-nine, eighty-six, here you go.”

Eddie accepted the stack of cash, flinching at the dampness of them.

“Do you work here every day?”

“Nine to six, Monday through Saturday, just like the sign says,” Eddie replied through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to wipe his hands on his shirt.

“Hm,” the man hummed, and shoved Eddie’s intricately made gloves into his back pocket. Eddie had to rub his face to stop his eye from twitching, only to realize he was now not only covered in _money_ , but the strangers sweat.

“What’s your name, exactly?” Eddie asked, trying to coax his features into something less angry.

“Miles.” He reached a hand out for Eddie to shake, which he begrudgingly accepted. “Miles Upshur.”

“Miles Upshur,” Eddie echoed, and in front of him Miles looked a little concerned all of a sudden. "I'm Eddie Gluskin."

“Uh-huh. I best be going,” Miles said, and made a motion as if to tip a non-existing hat. “See you around, Ed.”

And just like that he sauntered out of the shop like he didn’t have a care in the world, slamming the door too hard behind him. Eddie released a deep sigh, feeling some of the tension drain with it. After some quick deliberation he crossed the floor of the shop, turned the sign announcing he was open, locked the door and went up to his apartment.

While Eddie had spent his time on nervous brides and Frank’s grimy diner, Perl had sent him another message in his absence, and was now back to being offline. Eddie groaned.

_[Perl2536]: It hasn’t been more than a day, but it still feels strange not talking to you. I hope we’ll see each other soon, Ed._

Eddie sank back in his chair, feeling more than a little dejected. First the strange encounter at his shop, and now he couldn’t even talk to Perl.

Waylon. Eddie was certain now that he didn’t know a Waylon. And the other man, Upshur, was definitely someone he didn’t know. Someone as infuriating as that would surely be easy to remember. Something about the name bothered him, though.

Upshur.  
  
The name definitely reminded him of something, but Eddie couldn’t quite say what. He ran a hand through his hair and gave a deep sigh. Today had just not been his day.


	10. Waylon

Waylon was halfway to the motel by the time Miles caught up with him.

“I don’t fucking understand.” Waylon worried the hem of his shirt. “I don’t fucking get it.” He cursed himself for how weak his voice sounded. “He looked at me like he’d never seen me before in his life.”

Miles didn’t reply right away, just slung an arm around Waylon’s’ shoulder.

“And I heard him. You heard him, right? He talked about Perl, about me, and yet…”

“It’s damn weird is what it is.” Miles looked distracted, the way he always did when some theory was sloshing around in his skull. “Damn weird indeed. I mean, you even took your disguise off, there was no reason for him to-”

“I knew coming here was a mistake," Waylon groaned. "I told you, but you just couldn't leave it be, could you?”

“There’s more to this story, Way-Way. Can’t you feel it?” Miles tightened his hold around Waylon’s shoulder.

“No,” Waylon mumbled. “I just feel rejected.”

“Then it’s his loss.” Miles squeezed Waylon’s shoulder. “Even though you have shitty taste in everything besides best friends, you’re sweet and funny!”

Waylon gave a weak scoff, but didn’t say anything.

“And what does he got going for him? Except having his own store and being tall and muscular like some kinda action hero, and might I just say how stupid that it? What does he need it all for? Lifting fabric? Anyway, apart from that and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, he’s barely even-”

“Are you _trying_ to make me feel bad?”

“Nah. I’m trying to figure all of this out.”

They walked in silence to the motel, Miles with a deep furrow between his brows and a slight twitch by his left eye. Once inside the hotel, Waylon dumped down on the bed. The lights on their bedside tables were a muted, dusty yellow, and it did nothing to chase away the darkness in the room, or Waylon’s own melancholy.

“I just wanna go home.”

It seemed Miles had forgotten Waylon was there at all, because he startled at the sound of Waylon’s voice, and he scrunched his nose up as if he had to figure out where he was.

“Listen, Way, has Eddie written you while we were out now?”

“What? Why would he?” Waylon let himself fall back and he stared up at the grime on the ceiling.

“Just check, would ya?”

With a deep sigh and a clenched stomach, Waylon sat up and pulled out his laptop.

“Motel wi-fi sucks,” he grumbled as he typed in his password.

The website loaded, ever so slowly, and he blinked in confusion when he saw that not only was Ed online, he’d also sent him a message.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’ve had a strange day. I wish you were here. You’re the highlight in a filthy world, my darling._

Waylon stared at the message, dumbfounded.

“He’s written to you, hasn’t he?”

Before Waylon had a chance to reply, there was a soft notification bell letting him know that Eddie had written him a new message.

_[EdGluskin67]: Darling, are you on?_

With an embarrassed groan Waylon shut the laptop, his heart hammering in his chest.

“What the hell is going on?” he whispered, and looked at Miles. “Why would he give me a cold shoulder and then… I look like I do in the picture, right? Or did I totally catfish him with a good picture, while I look like a... well, like a literal catfish in real life?”

“The picture…” Miles said slowly, and his eyes shone like he had a fever. “Come. We have to go. Right now.”

“What? Where?” Waylon tried to bat Miles’ hands away, but Miles still somehow managed to pull him to his feet.

“We’re gonna pay Frank a little visit.”

“Frank? Diner-Frank?” Waylon gave Miles an incredulous glare, but Miles paid him no mind.

“Mr. Opossum. Yes. It’s imperative, actually.” Miles nodded to himself. “He’s the missing piece to all this.”

“What? You think he’s the real Ed?”

“No.” That was the only think Miles was willing to divulge, and before long Waylon found himself in front of the gaudy diner again, its pink fluorescent lights reflecting off the neighbouring windows.

“C’mon,” Miles said, opening the door with one hand, while hauling Waylon in with the other.

The diner was almost empty, the lunch hour rush over, and when Frank saw them he immediately lit up.

"Do we sell clams here now?” Frank called out in delight, leaning over the counter with a grin and a dirty ladle in one hand. “Because I just found a pearl."

“Yeah, real cute,” Miles said while crossing the floor. “We get it, you know it all.”

Frank’s smile faltered a bit, but it soon widened again.

“So? Did ya meet?”

“Waylon met Ed, yeah.” Miles sat down on one of the bar stools in front of Frank, and gestured for Waylon to sit down next to him. “Ed acted like he didn’t know who Waylon was at all.”

“Oh.” Frank’s smile paled again. “Well, did ya introduce yourself?”

“No,” Waylon scoffed. “By the looks of it, he had no idea who I was, despite the photo I sent and everything.”

“We-ell… About that.” Frank stroked his scraggly beard. “Eddie may or may not think you’re a lady.”

Waylon paled.

“And-” he continued. “-it may or may not be my fault.”

“I knew it,” Miles said, and his usual playful tone was long gone. “Spill it, what happened?”

“Thing is…” Frank licked his lips. “Eddie’s kind of a loner, right? I thought that some online dating would do him some good. But when I showed him a web-site to use, I might have given him that gay one for shits and giggles.” Before Waylon or Miles could say anything he put his arms up. “I thought he’d notice right away, okay? I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“So what, Ed- Eddie, thinks I’m _Lisa_?” Waylon’s stomach did a curious lurch, like he might lose the meager lunch he’d had. “Eddie’s been talking about how wonderful and beautiful _Lisa_ is?”

“He keeps the photo in his wallet.” Frank said. "I didn't have the heart to tell him."

The thought of Eddie keeping a picture of Lisa in his pocket was brutal. Even more when he realized Eddie must have cut Waylon out of it, since he didn’t recognize him at all. And who could blame him? Lisa was beautiful. Waylon's stomach lurched again. He couldn't believe that Frank had known, and still sent them over there.

“Why the hell would you encourage us like that?" Waylon asked, hurt creeping into his voice. "Why would you let me know that Eddie was who he said he was, and where to find him, if you already knew how it would end?”

Frank scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Honestly, I thought he’d see you and- I mean, you’re a good lookin’ guy! Not for me, admittedly, I’m straight as an arrow, but-”

“And what about Eddie?” Miles asked, eyes narrowed. “How straight is _his_ arrow?”

“Hah!” Frank wheezed. “Dunno about his _arrow_ , if you know what I mean, but I think he’d come around.”

“Come around?” Waylon finally said, resisting the urge to pull at his own hair. “This isn’t about some dress shirt on sale or an invitation to go to the movies. Come around?!“ He cradled his head in his hands instead with a deep sigh.

When Frank spoke again, he had the good grace to sound a little ashamed.

“Eddie’s a complicated guy, alright? I just thought that if-”

“You just thought you could play with people? Break my friend’s heart?” Miles put an arm around Waylon again, and Waylon finally removed his hands from his face.

“No, I wouldn’t-” Frank sighed. “Look, at first it was kinda funny, right? But then Eddie changed. You made him change.” Frank pointed the dirty ladle at Waylon. “Not Linda, but you.”

“Lisa.”

“Lisa, whatever.” He poured out two cups of coffee and pushed them in front of Waylon and Miles. “On the house, yeah? How about we make a little plan? Make Eddie see that-”

“You can’t just make someone gay, you know.” Despite his aching stomach, Waylon wrapped his hands around the warm cup. “Ed-” Waylon corrected himself again, the name feeling foreign in his mouth. “Eddie wants _Lisa_. Eddie wants a _woman_.” His stomach wasn’t just lurching, it was nestled somewhere in his throat and lower belly all at once.

“It wasn't all for shits and giggles. Honestly, Eddie doesn’t know what he wants,” Frank said and waved Waylon off. “There were stories about Eddie, y’know? Some local kid, ages ago. Something _happened_ , right? Then Eddie got beat up pretty bad by his old man, and the kid moved not long after.”

“Kid? You mean…?” Miles leaned forward, and Frank actually inclined towards him. They looked like two conspiratorial old ladies.

“Uh-huh. A _guy_.” Frank looked over at Waylon. “A blond guy.”

“So good ol’ Eddie’s into blondes, huh?” Miles frown was quickly turning into a big grin, and he and Frank exchanged looks that gave Waylon a bad feeling.

“Listen, I’ve known the guy for longer than I’ll care to admit, and the only women he’s ever been around, well, it’s been weird, alright?”

“Weird?” Miles leaned closer.

“Like he doesn’t really want them, y’know? More like he likes the idea of them.” Frank glanced around them before he moved closer and whispered, “He actually spooked some folks.”

“Are you saying he’s dangerous?” Waylon cut in.

“Nah,” Frank said, but he didn’t sound like he quite believed his own words. “Just kinda forward, I guess?”

“So how to spin this?” Miles asked, and Waylon’s head snapped in his direction so fast he worried he strained something.

“What? You’re going along with it?”

“Think about it, though.” Miles flicked his bottom lip with his index finger. “We’re here, right? And he’s here.”

“What an absolute astute sense of observation you have.”

Frank was watching them bicker like he was watching a tennis match, his head moving back and forth.

“You!” With a hand trembling of excitement, Miles pointed at Frank. “Where does Eddie usually go?”

“Go?” Frank sputtered. “You mean other than his shop, his apartment, my diner and one of his friends? Nowhere.” He somehow managed to both laugh and shake his head sadly. “Guy’s a hermit, that’s what I’ve tried to tell ya.”

“So how can we get Waylon on him?”

“Excuse me?” Waylon interjected. “ _On_ him?”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Miles said and rolled his eyes. “We all know you wanna sit on his face or whatever it is you’re into.” He winked at Frank. “Did you know they were _sexting_?”

“Really?!” Frank and Miles were now so close together that they had gone from looking like two old ladies to lovebirds about to share a milkshake. “Eddie? Sexting? I’m so proud.” He pretended to wipe a tear, and Waylon knew that Miles had found himself a soulmate.

Frank stopped suddenly. “Hey, how’d you manage that without mentioning your junk?”

Miles turned to Waylon. “Yeah, how _did_ you do that?”

“Shut up,” Waylon groaned.

“Would you be up for going back to his shop, though?” Miles asked. “Maybe you could pretend you’re getting married and need a suit?”

Frank snapped his fingers. “That’s a good idea!”

“Yeah? Then who’ll pose as my wife? You?”

Frank choked out a giggle, and Waylon tried not to imagine how his scraggly beard would look paired with a wedding dress.

“Maybe you could lure him out?” Miles asked, and Frank started stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“Y’know, I could get Chris in on this, and go out drinking tomorrow. Eddie doesn’t really drink, if you don’t count the one beer he’ll accept, but…”

“It’s perfect. You go there, we go there, and then-” Miles slapped his hands together. “-they kiss.”

With a groan Waylon rested his head on the counter. He was on for the ride now. He knew Miles would never let this go. Not until he had Eddie’s head in one hand, and Waylon’s in the other, mushing them together like he no doubt had with his sister’s Barbie dolls growing up.

Coming here had been a very, _very_ bad idea.


	11. Eddie

“C’mon Eddie, we haven’t gone out in literal _ages_.”

Frank was looking like some sort of lost puppy trying to find a way out of the pond. During the course of their conversation, his closed fists had even migrated up halfway to his chin so it looked like he was begging.

“I was at your house just a few days ago.” Eddie sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I have a lot of work to do, and-”

“We’re not gettin’ any younger, Eddie, you ought to go out there and-” Frank cut himself off and gave Eddie a sly glance. “You’re planning on sittin’ in front of the computer, aren’t you? Waiting on Perl?”

“So what if I am.” Eddie pointedly looked in the other direction.

Frank groaned. “Perl’s out visiting folks, Eddie. You can’t just sit here and wait.” He gave Eddie’s shoulder a weak punch. “Y’know, people find it more attractive if their love interest have an active life outside the relationship. You wouldn’t want her to think you’re desperate, would you?”

Once Frank realized that he was making Eddie uncertain, he continued on.

“Imagine, Perl’s been out all day, conversing with people, having _fun_. Then she comes home, sends you a message, and _bam_!” Frank smacked his fist into his palm. “You answer straight away like some lonely virgin.”

“That’s not-”

“A lonely, _desperate_ virgin,” Frank said, leaning forward.

Eddie grumbled, biting his bottom lip in a rare show of uncertainty. Frank had a point. He wanted Perl to know he was in love, but at the same time…

“Fine.” Eddie finally admitted defeat. “I’ll come.”

“Great!” Frank clapped his hands together and almost started dancing on the spot. “I’ll meet you here in like… half an hour?”

“That soon?” Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Where are we going exactly?”

“Scarlet Tavern, of course!” Before Eddie could say a word of protest, Frank had dashed out the door.

Scarlet Tavern. Yes, of course. Eddie let his head fall back with a long groan. It was about the tackiest bar in town, filled with hooligans and more neon signs than Tokyo, Japan.

Making sure the door was properly locked and the sign flipped, Eddie went upstairs without much enthusiasm. He checked his computer - again - but Perl was yet to write anything at all. He could have sworn she was on yesterday, but admittedly he didn’t know enough about the program to really know for sure. Perhaps it was a beetle, or whatever Frank had called hiccups in programming.

After changing from his work clothes to a fresh shirt and slacks, he took one more glance at the computer - still nothing - before going back downstairs.

Frank and Chris were standing outside his shop by the time Eddie came down, and he stopped in his tracks. They had their heads close together, talking at a fiery speed by the looks of it, and Eddie watched them through the window with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. They looked like a pair of conspiring old ladies, and Eddie had to wonder what that meant for their outing.

At least Frank looked like he had made an effort, his grimy apron replaced by a tacky cowboy shirt with tassels. Chris looked like he always did, whether he was grocery shopping or going to a party.

When he unlocked the door, they both took a step away from each other, faces plastered with the fakest grins Eddie had ever seen.

“Hey there, Eddie!” Frank said brightly. “Old buddy, old pal! How’s it hanging?”

“No different than twenty-five minutes ago,” Eddie said slowly, and looked over at Chris.

“Hey, Eddie.” Chris’ face looked pinched. “Nice seeing you again.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. This was all very unusual.

“I’m starting to have second thoughts about all of this,” he said slowly, but before he could say or do much of anything else, Chris had grabbed him firmly by the shoulder, and Frank shut the door behind him.

“Keys, please!” The teasing, sing-song tone of Frank’s voice did nothing to ease Eddie’s trepidation, and Chris was quick in snatching Eddie’s keys out of his pocket.

“You know I could take you both down if I wanted to, right?” Eddie shook himself out of Chris’ hold, only to be held firmly by Frank instead.

“Sure you could,” Chris gruffed. “Now c’mon.”

Eddie reluctantly allowed Chris and Frank to steer him in the direction of the Scarlet Tavern, grumbling all the while.

“I already agreed to come, you don’t have to drag me.”

“This is an intervention,” Frank said. “You can’t sit in front of that computer all day.”

“I do not sit in front of my computer all day!”

They didn’t say anything to Eddie’s protest, just pulled him along to the corner lot that was Scarlet Tavern, a big hand written sign on the outside letting them know there was live music inside.

Not that it was strictly necessary, music was already pouring out from the doors that never kept closed for long, a steady stream of people coming and going.

“This will be awesome,” Frank grinned, and opened the door enough for Chris to push Eddie through.

The interior was about like you’d expect from the exterior. Dark stained wooden walls covered with old licence plates and even more neon signs, and a wide array of people gathered around the bar and pool tables.

“Whatcha having? Beer?” Chris was pulling Eddie along to the bar, trying to shout over the music. “Or something stronger?”

“Beer is fine.”

Pyro was already standing by the bar, knocking back something resembling mud. Once they squeezed in next to him, he peered at them with his remaining good eye.

“Almost thought you’d show up alone, Manera,” he shouted over the music. “Long time no see, Eddie!”

“We met just last week, but-” Eddie trailed off.

As he was speaking, Pyro, Frank and Chris had started exchanging glances, and Eddie got that uneasy feeling in his stomach again.

“You’re not here to fix me up with someone, are you?” he finally asked, eyes narrowed, and Frank burst out laughing.

“You’re too caught up with Perl, old friend. Wouldn’t dream of messing that up.” Frank called out to the bartender, ordering for the group. “Besides,” he said, turning back to Eddie. “I’m rooting for Perl, y’know?”

A warm feeling flooded through Eddie’s chest at that.

“I had no idea you felt that way.” Eddie breathed, embarrassed when he realized he had put a hand over his own heart.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know,” Frank answered with a wink, but before Eddie could ask what that was supposed to mean, Frank had received their drinks and they retreated to a small booth in the corner.

The group seemed different, for more reasons than the fact that Martin and Dennis weren’t there. The others kept glancing at each other, and every now and then they’d go completely quiet, as if they forgot their cues to speak. It was all a little unsettling.

At one point Frank made big eyes at something, but when Eddie looked in the direction he had been looking, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Whatever he had seen had been swallowed up by a sudden influx of people.

Eddie shrugged and decided to just drink his beer and ignore them all. Clearly he was having one of his paranoid days.

With that thought, he ended up having a pretty nice time. The band wasn’t too bad, the beer cold and the conversation good when the others did speak.

“Motherfucker,” Chris suddenly breathed, and when Eddie looked back at him, he saw Chris’ attention on someone at the bar. “It’s that fucking guy!”

It was a good thing that Eddie hadn’t actually taken a gulp of beer, because he’d no doubt choke on it if he did. Because there, lounging comfortably at the bar as if he owned the place, was that guy again. Upshur something or another. Eddie glared at him and placed the bottle back on the table.

“That asshole was at the sanitorium just yesterday!” Chris said, while Frank tried to shush him, whispering something urgently into Chris’ ear. “But he was!” Chris insisted. “Ran around with a camera like he owned the place!”

Upshur was drinking beer as well, laughing and flirting with the bartender, totally oblivious to Eddie and his group. Next to him, angled towards one of the pool tables, was the young man from the previous day. He looked anxious, blonde hair a bit jostled, as if he’d been playing nervously with it. Waylon, was it? Eddie’s eyebrows pulled together.

Why were they here? Eddie knew he hadn’t seen them before, and the town was too small for new residents to go undetected for long. Tourists, then, which didn’t fully explain why they’d come to his shop, knowing his name. Eddie scowled.

Miles laughed, his laughter audible even over the music, and he nudged Waylon. Waylon smiled when he turned towards him, a weak thing, and said something Eddie couldn’t hear. Then the neon light changed, bathing the bar in pale blue light, and Waylon turned to Eddie and their eyes met.

Eddie suddenly felt sucker punched, the scene hauntingly familiar. Even the music seemed to dim, all other people gone. Golden, blonde hair, blue light. He’d seen that before. He’d seen that face before.

There was a brief moment where they watched each other, and Waylon looked even more out of place, eyes wide as he watched Eddie. No, Eddie didn’t know a Waylon, but he knew this man.

While maintaining eye contact, Eddie got out his wallet, and Waylon suddenly looked ashen. He got out the picture of Perl, stared at it for a moment, before he carefully unfolded it.

And there, looking almost exactly as he did in that moment, was Waylon. The blue light in the picture was from lights filtered through an aquarium and not cheap neon signs, but there was no mistaking that face.

Eddie creased his brow, staring at the photograph. It felt as it the floor had given way beneath him. More than that, it felt like two halves of whatever reality he’d occupied had tried to line up, but the edges were too ragged to truly fit.

“Eddie,” Chris said, and Eddie didn’t think he misunderstood the warning in his tone. “You keep calm, you hear?”

“He wouldn’t have to stay calm if you’d just keep your big yapper shut.” Frank looked nervous, pulling on the tattered hem of his cowboy shirt, while Pyro simply stared at him, his milky eye unblinking.

Eddie got up, dusted himself off, and made his way up to Waylon, who now looked absolutely terrified. The world was in slow motion, giving Eddie ample time to see a myriad of expressions cross Waylon’s face. Once in front of him, Eddie leaned down, taking in every detail of his face, while Waylon stared up at him, looking utterly helpless.

“I know who you are,” Eddie finally said.

“Y-you do?” Waylon had to angle his head back to keep eye contact, and the light changed, washing his cheeks with pale pinks.

Eddie attempted a smile, and held up the photograph, letting Waylon get a good view of it.

“I do,” Eddie murmured.

“I’m sorry if I-” Waylon stuttered, shrinking in on himself a little.

“I was wondering why the two of you were at the shop, but I finally figured it out. You’re-” Eddie paused, and this time it wasn’t hard for him to smile at all. “You’re Perl’s brother, aren’t you? Here to check if I’m good enough for your sister?”

Waylon stared blankly at him, probably completely dumbfounded that Eddie had seen through the ploy as fast as he had. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again.

“Uh,” he finally croaked.

“It’s alright, I’m not angry,” Eddie said, trying to reassure the man. “If I had a sister, I’d no doubt do the same thing.”

“You… What?” Miles cut in, and he was about to say something more when Waylon cut him off with a shake of his head.

“I knew there was something strange about the two of you,” Eddie beamed.

“I-” Miles didn’t seem like he knew what to say.

Waylon was still looking at Eddie, his face flushed. He looked so much like Perl that Eddie probably watched him a bit more intently than what was socially acceptable, too busy looking him over to see all the things he’d wanted to see in Perl.

“So, Waylon,” he finally said. “What can I do to ease your mind?”


	12. Waylon

It was a sad thing, this meeting.

Not because Eddie wasn’t who he’d said he was, no. It was because he was exactly how Waylon had imagined. Smart, well-spoken, funny. All of that in a tall, handsome and muscular package.

No, it was sad because Waylon was too afraid to tell the truth, while Eddie looked at Waylon like a potential brother-in-law, and not a lover. Waylon wanted to cry.

“I suspect you already know my profession,” Eddie said, leaning closer to Waylon. “But what do you do?”

“Oh, uh.” Waylon’s mind went blank. “I’m a computer programmer.”

“Oh, like your sister?”

“Yeah. Just like my sister.” Waylon felt queasy.

“I should probably wait for her to tell me her real name herself, but-” He smiled sheepishly at Waylon, letting the sentence hang in the air.

“Lisa,” Waylon managed to grit out. “Her name is Lisa.”

“Lisa.” Eddie seemed to savour the name, and he looked lost in dreams for a moment. “What a beautiful name.”

Miles had retreated to Eddie’s group of friends, and he and Frank were talking and gesticulating wildly, pointing in Eddie’s direction. Waylon glared at them for a moment.

Sure, he’d been stupid. He should have come clean, instead of following along on Eddie’s- Well, whatever it was he imagined was going on. But it felt good to have his attention like this, all the previous suspicion from the tailor shop gone. Perhaps it was safer like this, after all.

And yet all Waylon wanted to do was reach out for Eddie’s hands and hold them. He was so close, and so unattainable at the same time. Just like before.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie suddenly asked. Waylon had been too lost in his own thoughts to realize that Eddie had leaned closer.

“Uh, yeah.” Waylon wasn’t sure what he meant or what they’d do, but he’d say yes to it all.

When they got up and started going for the door, Miles and Eddie’s friends were staring at their every move. Miles started opening his mouth to say something, an inappropriate joke, no doubt, but Waylon quickly shut him up by waving his hand in a cutting motion over his neck.

Once at the door, Eddie actually brushed against Waylon, and opened the door for him. The perfect gentleman.

Compared with the stifling heat of the bar, the chill of the outside air was a big relief. Waylon hadn’t had more than a couple of beers, but it felt refreshing all the same. Eddie came up behind him, buttoning up his waistcoat.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said, and Waylon almost got goosebumps.

Without the loud music and rowdy patrons, his voice was intimate. Far too intimate. It made Waylon think of dangerous things, like Eddie’s unbuttoned shirt, his pectorals straining against the fabric. His insistent talk of being inside Waylon’s - _Perl’s_ \- body. Waylon cleared his throat.

“Where do you live?”

“I live above my tailor shop,” Eddie sounded amused. “It’s my own, no mortgage.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” Eddie said softly. “But there it is. I’m financially stable. I could provide a safe future for your sister.”

“Right,” Waylon said. It was ridiculous being jealous of Lisa. Kind Lisa who never asked to be put in a situation like this. Lisa who had been nothing but supportive, even after finding out after five years together that Waylon was in fact gay. Lisa who had moved on with a great guy. Lisa, who-

“You’re quiet,” Eddie observed. “I hope I haven’t been a disappointment.”

“No.” Waylon shook his head. “No, you haven’t been. You’re exactly who I- who Lisa thought you were.”

The answer seemed to sate Eddie, who smiled to himself. They went back to walking in comfortable silence, Waylon far away in thought.

“Do you want to see it?” Eddie suddenly asked, startling Waylon out of his thoughts.

“See it?” Waylon blanched.

“My apartment,” Eddie clarified. “It’s right through here, but I suppose you already know that.” Eddie placed his hand gently on Waylon’s lower back, steering him towards his shop. “About that, I really was inexcusably rude to you, to which I am truly sorry.”

“No!” Waylon shook his head, trying to rid himself of the blush he felt on his face. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry, springing all this on you like that. You didn’t expect me, and I really shouldn’t have.” He gritted his teeth. “I really, _really_ shouldn’t have.”

“But I’m glad you did.” Eddie said. “She feels more real to me now, looking at you.” He looked at Waylon with an intensity that was bordering on frightening. “You look so much alike.”

Waylon chuckled nervously. He’d dreamt of that sort of intensity focused on him. But not like this. With a final glance, Eddie unlocked the door to his shop and opened it for Waylon.

The interior was dark, and Waylon stood silently while Eddie locked the door behind them. He didn't turn on the lights, but placed his hand back on the small of Waylon's back. It felt much different to the lit streets outside, Eddie's firm presence all too close to him in the dark. He walked with Eddie to a curtain by the back of the shop that revealed a door and a staircase on the other side.

“There’s another entry on the side of the building,” Eddie explained. “I just always preferred this one.”

They ascended the staircase in silence, Waylon all too aware of Eddie walking behind him. He’d had a lot of ideas about how Eddie lived. Where he lived. And now he was here. Under false pretenses.

The staircase opened up into a narrow hallway, which in turn lead into a spacious living room overlooking the main street. It was comfortably decorated, although not quite what Waylon had envisioned, and Eddie gestured for Waylon to take a seat.

“Coffee? Tea? Afraid I don’t keep alcohol in the house.”

“Water’s fine,” Waylon replied, perching on the edge of a chair by the window. He hunched a little, trying not to let Eddie see how much his hands were shaking.

“Water,” Eddie echoed, and disappeared into what was presumably the kitchen. While the soft sounds of running water and the quiet tinks of glass sounded from out the opened door, Waylon took the time to look around the place.

It wasn’t like a typical bachelor pad, it wasn’t filled with sleek chrome and black and whites. No, it was filled with an eclectic mix of things Waylon guessed he’d inherited. The wallpaper wasn’t like the one he’s seen behind Eddie in the picture he had sent, so this couldn’t be where they’d been chatting.

This was madness. Waylon rubbed a hand over his face. Perhaps the wise thing would leave. Just cut his losses, leave and go home. Finally ditch the entire idea of online dating. Just when he figured he would get up and dash, Eddie came back with two glasses of water and two cups of coffee on a small tray.

“Just in case,” he said, placing one of each next to Waylon. “But don’t feel obligated.”

“Thank you,” Waylon said weakly, and tried not to stare at Eddie when he sat down opposite of him.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, and when Waylon took a sip of water to do something, do _anything_ , he swallowed with an audible gulp.

“How long are you in Leadville?” Eddie finally asked.

“Oh.” Waylon hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He’d brought his laptop, and he could work away from home for a while. “I don’t know.” he finally admitted. “We didn’t really plan anything.”

“A spur of the moment thing?” Eddie’s smile was a little strained. “Does Lisa know you’re here?”

It was easier to spin the lie of Lisa when Eddie used her name, instead of Waylon’s screen name.

“No. Lisa has no idea.”

God, it was hard being near Eddie. Even just sitting there, even when Eddie was in love with the idea of someone else, Waylon’s heart was beating like a drum, his hands clammy. He was biting his lip frantically, fingering the glass.

“You’re nervous,” Eddie observed. “Here, let me show you something.”

Eddie got up, and walked towards one of the doors leading out of the living room, and Waylon dutifully followed close behind, despite glancing behind himself all the same, wondering if the smart thing would be to run away.

He lead Waylon into what looked like a study, with large boards pinned with sketches and fabrics in all manner of shades. In the center of the room was a dress dummy, of the kind that always gave Waylon the creeps. On it, pinned carefully with silver pins, was a stunning dress made of intricate panels of pale blue silk.

“I got the inspiration when I saw your sister,” Eddie explained, trailing one hand carefully over the curve of the waist. “I was hoping seeing it would help ease your nerves. That my intentions are pure.”

“It’s beautiful,” Waylon breathed, despite knowing very little about dresses in general.

It truly was, though, despite his lack of knowledge. The panels flared from a cinched waist into a full skirt. He wanted to touch it, but he was afraid he’d taint it somehow.

“She has a very special kind of delicate beauty,” Eddie continued. “And the blue tint of the picture she send made that beauty seem almost ethereal.”

“Beauty,” Waylon muttered, heart sinking. “Yes. I can see that. She really is beautiful.”

“Oh.” Eddie rubbed his neck. “Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not her looks that attracted me to her.”

“No?”

“No.” Eddie’s voice was firm and he stepped away from the dress dummy. “It’s her ideas. Her thoughts. I’d love her even if she looked like the villain of a fairy tale.”

“L-love?” Waylon tried not to choke on the word.

Eddie looked sheepish again. “I never told her that,” he admitted. “A bit too soon. Admittedly a bit soon to feel that way at all.” He rubbed his neck again. “It’s probably silly.”

Waylon’s heart ached.

“I don’t think it’s silly.”

All Waylon wanted just then was to close the gap between them and tell him everything. Whisper every secret against his lips.

Eddie smiled, and took a step closer to Waylon. “You share that same delicate grace as your sister,” he said.

“Oh?” Waylon felt boneless as Eddie closed in on him.

“It’s those eyes,” he said, and raised his hand as if to touch Waylon, but let his hand sink as he no doubt thought better of it. “A man could spill his deepest secrets.”

“Do you have any deep secrets to spill, then?” Waylon was skirting the edge, he knew. He wasn’t supposed to know of young, blonde boys and violent fathers.

A change came over Eddie’s face at those words, a wide array of unnamed emotions flitting over his face before it settled on something mask-like and unreadable.

“I do,” he finally said. “But none that matter in regards to Lisa.” He turned away, angled towards the dress instead of Waylon.

“I’m sorry,” Waylon said, and reached a hand out to touch Eddie’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t-”

At the first touch, Eddie stiffened, but soon he relaxed under Waylon’s fingers. More than anything Waylon wanted to leave his hand there, feel every broad expanse of muscle and skin, but he removed it after a brief moment, his heart hammering.

“I should probably go,” Waylon whispered.

“Maybe you should,” Eddie replied. Then he seemed to shake out of whatever spell he was under, and when he turned around his face was swept clear or any tension his voice had held. “Will I see you again, Waylon?”

“You want to?”

“Of course! I want to get to know Lisa’s brother. I want you to feel at ease with me.” Eddie suddenly looked bashful. “I’d also like to meet her. Was your plan to bring her here?”

“Bring her here?” Waylon echoed weakly. “Oh. Uh. Yes. Maybe.”

Even at something elusive as that, Eddie lit up. He didn’t speak for a moment, too lost in the idea of Lisa to take notice of Waylon.

“I better go, then.”

Eddie startled out of whatever dream world he’d been in and reached out his hand. “I hope to see you soon, Waylon. Please stop by when you can.”

Waylon took Eddie’s hand, ignoring the flutters of his treacherous stomach.

“I will.” He smiled. “Thank you for the coffee.”

They both chuckled, before they pulled away.

“I’ll show myself out.”

And with that, Waylon finally broke away, heart skipping as he turned his back to leave. It didn’t ease as he crossed the living room, not when he descended the staircase and not when he opened the front door.

And when he stepped out into the night, he felt both light as air and heavy as a stone.


	13. Eddie

_[EdGluskin67]: I met your brother last night._

Eddie leaned back in his chair with a smile, raising his morning cup of coffee to his lips. He had slept better than he had in a long while, and for once woken up to Lisa being online. There was a short pause before Lisa responded, but Eddie didn't even let that bother him.

_[Perl2536]: You did, huh? What do you think of him?_

_[EdGluskin67]: I like him. He’s a lot like you._

He didn’t have to lie to Lisa. He had genuinely liked Waylon. He seemed kind and sweet, but he’d especially liked the shyness Waylon so desperately had tried to hide. He hoped Lisa had that quality as well.

_[Perl2536]: I hear that a lot._

Despite the beautiful morning, and despite being online, something seemed different about Lisa, Eddie thought. She seemed low energy, and quiet. Too quiet.

_[EdGluskin67]: Darling, are you tired?_

The little pencil moved in the corner, then stood still, before it moved again.

_[Perl2536]: I’m sorry, I am. Been some very emotional couple of days._

_[EdGluskin67]: Oh, darling. Don’t apologize. I understand completely._

He couldn’t lie and say the thought of speaking less with Lisa was a good one, but he wanted to be selfless and allow her the time she so desperately seemed to need.

_[EdGluskin67]: Relax, take some time for yourself. I’ll be here when you feel better._

Honestly, he’d halfway expected her to decline the suggestion.

_[Perl2536]: You’re a sweet man. I think I ought to do that._

Eddie’s smile faltered for a moment, and he had to force down the jab of jealousy of her wanting time away from him. It was ridiculous, of course. He just had to remind himself that he offered this, that he wanted her rested and happy.

_[EdGluskin67]: Of course. I want you to be happy, darling, even if that means time away from you._

_[Perl2536]: It wouldn’t be time away from you that made me happy, Eddie._

At least that made Eddie’s smile return with a vengeance, and he leaned back in his chair again.

_[Perl2536]: I’ll speak with you soon, and miss you until I do._

_[EdGluskin67]: As I’ll miss you._

Eddie quickly glanced behind him, somehow certain that he’d find Frank’s mocking face peeking out from the curtain. If any of the guys knew how Lisa and Eddie spoke to one another, he knew he’d never hear the end of it.

After saying goodbye, Eddie gave a sigh and glanced down on his watch. It was still over two hours before he had to open his shop. He’d gotten up early for Lisa’s sake, hoping she would be on. He was yet to eat, but a sudden bout of restlessness let him know that breakfast would have to come a little later. There were still some sketches downstairs that needed work, so he decided to get that out of the way before getting something quick and easy to eat.

With a sigh he descended the staircase down into the store, and he was just about to head into the back room when he noticed movement outside the store. Eddie paused and squinted outside, only to realize that Waylon was standing awkwardly outside the store with two travel mugs in his hands.

After a brief moment of confusion, Eddie crossed the floor and unlocked the door.

“Waylon,” Eddie said, surprised, and watched as a flush spread over Waylon’s cheeks.

“Eddie.” Waylon looked like a raccoon caught with his hand in the cookie jar, if Eddie were to use one of Frank’s colorful expressions. “You said I should stop by, I don’t know if it… if you...” Waylon trailed off, looking lost.

“I meant what I said;” Eddie said and smiled. “I’m happy to see you.”

Waylon flushed even more at the words.

“I was wondering, if you haven’t had breakfast, if you’d want to go to your friend’s diner with me?” Waylon glanced up at him. “Miles and Frank really hit it off.”

“Oh.” Eddie rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Truth is, as much as I enjoy Frank’s company, I’d rather not- well...” He chuckled. “It’s not the cleanest of places.”

“Oh.” Waylon said.

“Oh, indeed.”

They went quiet for a moment, before Waylon cleared his throat.

“So where would be a clean place, if you’d want to…” he trailed off again.

It was all a bit strange, admittedly, but Eddie were yet to eat and he did enjoy Waylon’s company.

“Well,” Eddie said, undecided. “There’s some nice restaurants close by, but I’m unsure which ones are open this early.” He paused. “You’re more than welcome to eat breakfast upstairs with me, though.”

“Upstairs… with you?” Waylon was back to his usual expression of wide-eyed surprise.

“You won’t risk salmonella by eating my food, I can assure you,” Eddie said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of thinking…” Waylon shook his head and then flashed Eddie a big smile. “Breakfast upstairs sounds good.”

Eddie stepped aside and gestured with his hand for Waylon to enter.

Normally, Eddie rarely had visitors. He wasn’t sure if it was because his friends were uncomfortable in his admittedly old-fashioned apartment, or if it was merely a coincidence, but they always seemed to spend most of their time in Frank’s dingy, one story house. Didn’t have to worry about breaking anything there, at least, and his porch was large and perfect for barbecuing.

Shaking out of his daydreaming, Eddie followed Waylon up the staircase. Perhaps he’d be better off offering Waylon some good, tailor made clothing, instead of breakfast. Really, the man’s sense of style left something to be desired. His shirt was terribly drab, plaid in a muddy brown that did nothing to show off Waylon’s coloring. His jeans were even rolled up at the calf, like he was a child. At least it hugged his legs and hips nicely, which told Eddie that if nothing else, he’d chosen the right size. Realizing he was staring at Waylon’s backside, he cleared his throat and looked away.

Instead of focusing on Waylon’s clothes, he should be trying to figure out what best to serve him. Thankfully, he’d been grocery shopping just the previous day, so he was well-stocked. Perhaps he should go traditional, with eggs and bacon. Or healthy, with oatmeal? Eddie wrinkled his nose and hoped Waylon wasn’t the type to start his day with a Pop-tart.

“What woul-” Just as Eddie started talking, so did Waylon, and they both chuckled.

“You first,” Waylon said.

Eddie hadn’t noticed last night, but when Waylon smiled, it brightened up his whole face.

“I wanted to ask what you’d prefer for breakfast.”

“Mmm.” Waylon pondered the question for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you told me what you’d want? Or have?”

“Fair enough.” Eddie led Waylon into the kitchen, and started washing his hands. “How about a BLT?”

“Oh, fancy.” Waylon smiled again. “I’d love that.”

“‘Fancy’?” Eddie chuckled. “It’s hardly Eggs Benedict or Stromboli, darling.”

A peculiar expression crossed Waylon’s face, and Eddie didn’t think he imagined the flush on his neck. Eddie hoped he hadn’t embarrassed the poor man by bringing up dishes he hadn’t heard of before.

“Do you want to sit down while I prepare our food?” Eddie asked to smooth over the situation. "It won't take too long." He started getting ingredients out from the fridge before Waylon could answer.

“How about I help?” Waylon offered, and rolled his sleeves up. “I’m pretty good at chopping tomatoes.”

“Oh. Sure.” Eddie paused for a moment, before opening the drawer that held kitchen towels and aprons. “That sounds nice, actually.” He got out a simple black one for himself and a white one for Waylon, and to his relief Waylon had started washing his hands in the meantime. After seeing Frank in the kitchen, he’d lost all hope that people still upheld basic hygiene.

After drying his hands, Waylon hooked the apron over his head, but then started tying it around his hips instead of around his waist.

“No, wait.” Eddie stepped closer, and carefully undid the sloppy bow Waylon had made. “It won’t be comfortable like that, let me show you.”

The moment Eddie touched him, Waylon seemed to be holding his breath. He stood perfectly still while Eddie reached around his back, crossed the straps and brought them forward again before Eddie tied a neat bow on the side of Waylon’s waist. While the rest of him was still, Waylon’s eyes darted around, sometimes focused on the kitchen cabinets, but mostly focused on Eddie and his every move.

“There,” Eddie murmured. “It’ll stay in place like that.” He paused with his hands still around Waylon’s narrow waist. “My grandmother used to tie her wedding ring to the bow whenever she’d bake.” He thought of her for a moment, with her pearly white hair and gentle, wrinkled face, before finally shaking out of it. To his embarrassment his hands had moved down to Waylon’s hips, and he retracted his hands quickly.

“Do you ever want to get married?” Waylon asked, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say he was out of breath.

“Yes.” Eddie smiled. “More than anything.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t met the right-” Waylon looked a little dazed. “- person yet.”

“Oh, but I have.” Eddie started putting on his own apron. “I told you my intentions for your sister were pure.”

He wasn’t looking at Waylon as he said it, so he didn’t see the expression that accompanied a sudden intake of breath. When he turned, Waylon was busy fiddling with the knot Eddie at tied at his side.

“Alright,” Eddie said, stepping over to the stove. “If you chop the lettuce and tomato, then I’ll cook the bacon.”

Waylon didn’t answer, but Eddie heard him rustle with the plastic around the lettuce before the water started running again.

“Do you have anything planned for your visit here in Leadville?”

“Oh, if Miles had his way, then we’d be out exploring abandoned mine shafts and ghost towns.” Waylon chuckled and moved next to Eddie so he could start chopping it. “But I don’t know. Perhaps you could tell me?”

“Well, there’s the Tabor Opera House.” The bacon had started sizzling in the pan, filling the kitchen with the comforting smell of it. “I like Twin Lakes, myself. It has a nice view of Mount Massive.”

“Maybe you could take me there,” Waylon said with a smile.

“Maybe I could.”

It really struck Eddie at that moment, how quiet his apartment had been without another person. Even if it was just his potential brother-in-law, the place seemed more complete somehow. It was more than the sound of Waylon rinsing and chopping vegetables. More than his laughter and gentle smiles. Eddie couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps this was what family felt like.

“Hey,” Eddie said, inspiration striking him. “I have the perfect idea.”  
  


* * *

  
Twin Lakes spread out before them, the vastness of the sky reflected off the water. There was a nip in the air, but Eddie felt warmed by the look of awe on Waylon’s face as he stared across the lakes to the looming mountains in the distance. Coming here had definitely been a good idea.

“It’s beautiful.” Waylon seemed to have forgotten all about their food, too lost in the beauty of the place.

It might have simply been the chill, but Waylon’s face was absolutely pink. It was- cute, almost, as far as men went. Maybe that was all down to familial features.

“So you didn’t mind the wait?” Eddie asked as he spread a large quilted blanket on the ground.

“Not at all,” Waylon said, sounding breathless. “It’s amazing.”

“I imagine it would be, for a city man such as yourself.”

“'City man', huh?” Waylon turned to Eddie and grinned. “Haven’t been called that one before.”

“Oh, but you are.” Eddie started unpacking the BLTs, an assortment of fruits, and a thermos filled with tea. “Leadville has a population of less than three thousand people, and Denver has what-” Eddie glanced up at Waylon. “- Half a million?”

“Seven hundred thousand, I think.” Waylon replied. “If you give me a moment I could calculate the-”

“Calculate? Math?” Eddie tried to look scandalized. “And here I thought we were gonna have a pleasant picnic!”

The effort didn’t go unrewarded as Waylon immediately started laughing.

“Now get those modern ideas out of your head and come eat.” Eddie beckoned for Waylon to sit down. “Math will give you wrinkles anyway, darling.”

Waylon was still chuckling as he sat down opposite of Eddie, and it struck Eddie how at ease he felt with Waylon around. Something told him he wouldn’t just gain a brother-in-law, but a friend as well.

“I’m happy you came, Waylon.”

Waylon’s eyes were on him the second he said, wide and startled.

“At first I thought it was just because I felt closer to Lisa, but-” Eddie handed Waylon a steaming cup of tea and one of the BLTs. “- I think it’s more than that. You’re a nice guy.”

It might have been a trick of the early morning light, but something passed over Waylon’s face just then. Eddie could have sworn there was a hint of melancholia there, but Waylon had a sip of tea before Eddie could think much of it, and when he was done, he was smiling.

“You’re a nice guy too, Eddie. I’m…” He paused and looked away. “I’m glad I came here as well.”

They ate in comfortable silence, while watching the gentle ripples on the water’s surface, and the birds flying overhead. Eddie had come here many times, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so at peace before. Perhaps it was the company.

“It must feel kind of strange?” Waylon suddenly asked, breaking the tranquility of the place. “Being here with me, I mean.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“I mean.” Waylon cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “I bet you’d much rather be here with Lisa.”

Pondering the question, Eddie took a moment to look over Waylon. It struck him that perhaps that was the cause of the sudden shift of emotion earlier.

“Are you worried about that?” Eddie leaned closer. “I hope you don’t think I tolerate your company as a means to get to your sister.”

Waylon broke out in a slight flush at the words.

“I won’t say I’m not anticipating meeting her, but I very much enjoy your company, Waylon, with or without her.”

“You do?” Waylon flushed deeper, and this time it even reached his ears.

Eddie smiled and gently stroked the outer shell of Waylon’s ear. “You blush easily, do you know that?” He moved his fingers right below Waylon’s right ear, marveling at just how warm and soft his skin was, before skimming them over his jaw.

Just then Waylon made a strange hiccup-y sound in the back of his throat, which shook Eddie out of it. He retreated his fingers quickly, suddenly very ashamed of what he’d just done.

“We should head back.” Eddie pulled away. “Need to open the store soon.”

It was definitely more than a trick of the light this time. Waylon’s open expression seemed to close itself off completely, and he didn’t speak. Instead he gave a nod and a smile Eddie recognized as insincere. Before he could ask what was the matter, though, Waylon had gotten up.

“This place is really beautiful, Eddie, thank you for showing me.”

“There’s a lot of places I could show you,” Eddie murmured, and got up as well.

“I’d like that,” Waylon said, and when he turned to face Eddie, his smile was genuine once again.  
  


* * *

  
Frank was busy serving patrons when Eddie came around at lunch time. When he saw Eddie, though, he immediately retreated from the table he was serving - with the plates of food still in his hands - and waddled over.

“Hey!” His voice cracked like he was a teenaged boy. “How did it go yesterday?”

“With…?”

“With Waylon, ya dingus!”

Eddie hesitated for a moment, stricken by the intensity on Frank’s face.

“It went well?” Eddie said slowly, confused. “Waylon is nice, I like him. He stopped by this morning as well.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Frank quickly deposited the plates on the nearest table and slid in across from Eddie. “And…?”

“And what?” Eddie piqued a brow. “I swear, you’re getting stranger by the day.”

“He’s a good looking guy.” Frank scratched his head. “Wouldn’t fault you for it if you decided to stretch his chocolate starfi-”

“I’m gonna ask you to stop right there,” Eddie growled, and then scrunched up his nose. “Need I remind you he’s Perl’s brother? And that’s not the only issue, he’s-”

“He’s what?” Frank asked, batting his eyelashes.

Ugh, Eddie hated it when Frank tried to play coy. It was terribly misplaced on someone who was more beard and bad manners than man.

“You know perfectly well what.” Eddie groaned and sighed. “You know, my morning has been too nice for this.”

Frank waggled his eyebrows and gave a knowing smile. “Oh, I bet it was.”

“Have you been eating too many of your ‘special’ brownies again?”

Frank’s eyes darted back and forth between Eddie, the door and the nearest table, which was enough of an answer for Eddie.

“Remind me never to accept any baked goods from you.”

“Okay,” Frank waved his hands in front of Eddie. “If you didn’t explore his-” He cut himself off at the expression on Eddie’s face. “What did you two do?”

“It was all very innocent, thank you very much,” Eddie scowled, before he continued. “We made breakfast and had a picnic out at Twin Lakes. Lovely scenery, you know I- What?”

During the sentence Frank’s face had taken on an unsettling quality, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head and his beard bristling like the whiskers of a cat about to pounce.

“Are you having a stroke?”

Frank didn’t reply, just stared at Eddie while his mouth started twisting. Eddie had asked mostly in jest, but now he was starting to think that Frank was indeed having some kind of episode. Eddie was halfway out of his seat to go find a telephone, before Frank finally spoke.

“You-” he wheezed. “You took him on a _picnic_?”

“Yes?” Eddie frowned and dumped back on on his seat. “You scared me, Jesus.”

“You took Waylon on a picnic?” Frank continued, his face still twisted in some emotion Eddie couldn’t name. “Waylon?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I took Waylon on a picnic, what’s the problem?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Frank waved him off, although his expression told Eddie that there was definitely something, and not nothing as he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make, see you in a jiffy ol’ pal.”

With an ungraceful slide and a tumble, Frank got out of the booth and made his way over to the counter, all but scrambling over his own legs.

Eddie gave a deep sigh. He hadn’t so much as gotten a cup of coffee, and boy, did he ever need one.


	14. Waylon

The ceiling in the motel looked like it had been made out of old popcorn. Waylon was on his back on the lumpy old bed, staring at it. It reminded him of school, when Miles had spent six months tossing wet paper at the ceiling until it resembled a strange nest of sorts.

Truth was he was trying very hard not to think about that morning with Eddie. Not Eddie’s strong hands on his waist and hips. Not how much it had felt making and eating food together. And especially not that strange moment right before they had gone back to town.

Nope. He was definitely not gonna think about that.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to _not_ think about it for long, because Miles arrived back at the motel with a large doggy bag from Frank’s diner in one hand, and hot dog tongs in the other.

“Where’d you…?” Waylon started, before just letting his head fall back down. “Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.”

Miles didn’t say anything straight away, just dumped down on the bed next to Waylon.

“So,” he finally started, turning his head so he could look at Waylon. “Did you and Eddie take the old dirt trail today?”

“The what?”

“Y’know… Did you get a plum in your pudding hole?” Miles smiled hopefully. “A little sphincter spelunking?”

“Pudding hole - Miles, you’re disgusting!” Waylon reached for the spare pillow and hit Miles over the face with it.

Miles fell back and had the audacity to cackle under the pillow, and mumbled something about ‘jail purses’.

“No, nothing like that.” Waylon stared up at the popcorned ceiling again. “I wish.”

“You were gone for _hours_ , though.” His voice was muffled from beneath the pillow.

“We had breakfast together.” Waylon sniffed. “Nothing more.”

“Just breakfast?” Miles asked. “Not a picnic?”

“What?” Waylon pulled the pillow off Miles’ face. “How the hell did you know that?”

“Don’t you know?” Miles tried to sound offended, but the look on his face said differently. “I am pretty much the best investigative journalist in the county, nay, the state!”

“Did you follow us?” Waylon flushed. ”Did you see-”

“See what?” Miles sat up. “Are you telling me you two…?”

“No! I’m not saying anything happened, but it’s kinda creeping me out that you know despite-”

“Despite not being honest with me? Despite _lying_?” Miles gave a totally unconvincing pout.

“Oh my God,” Waylon breathed. “You talked to Frank, didn’t you? Did Eddie talk to Frank?”

Miles’ pout slowly transformed into a smug smirk. “You’re so in love it’s disgusting, man. Yeah, I talked to Frank. And Frank talked to Eddie.”

Despite it sounding more and more like something out of a junior high novel, Waylon’s heart still beat a little faster.

“And?”

“And…” Miles started looking at his nails, clearly enjoying the situation. “Frank said that Eddie was positively glowing with love.”

“He did not say that.” Waylon groaned and fell back down on the bed. “You’re just making fun of me now.”

“Alright, alright. He said that Eddie called you a nice guy, and that he had a nice time with you.”

“‘ _Nice_ ’, huh?” Waylon’s heart sank. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Oh, stop that.” Miles laid down next to Waylon. “Frank said Eddie never use that word, okay? For him it’s always ‘fine this’ or ‘fine that’. No, my dear friend, this is good.” He clapped his hands together over his chest. “Our plan is working.”

“Oh, it’s working alright.” Waylon creased his forehead and sighed. “Eddie wants to marry _Lisa_.”

“Lisa, smisa.” Miles bumped his shoulder against Waylon’s. “If Frank thinks Eddie’s falling for you, then I think we oughta trust him.”

An image of Frank, filthy apron, messy beard and all, flashed through Waylon’s mind.

“And,” Miles continued. “Frank had yet another idea on how to get you two together.”

“Yeah, because the previous plan worked so well.” Waylon released a puff of air.

“It did! I mean, granted, you didn’t get to feel his slippery ee-” An elbow into Miles’ ribs redirected his train of thought. “You were at his place, alone, at night. I’d say that’s progress considering you were jerking off alone in the living room just a few days ago.”

“Miles…” Waylon groaned, but Miles just continued as if he hadn’t said a word.

“Frank’s planning a barbecue out at his place, and man, it’s gonna be perfect. It’s still kinda chilly, right, so you two can huddle together like sheep by the fire.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you two read the same romance books growing up.” Waylon started laughing and rolled over to his side so he could look at Miles. “What’s next, locking us in a room with just one bed?”

Miles got a sudden, intense look on his face and he lit up.

“Hey!” He bolted upright. “That’s a great idea!”

“Oh brother.” Waylon groaned and shook his head. “I need a shower. Please forget I ever said anything.”

By the look of concentration on Miles’ face, though, he seriously doubted he would. Instead of worrying about it, he started going through his suitcase for a change of clothes, and although he knew it was a very bad idea to leave Miles to think, he couldn’t make himself care too much at the moment. No, he was distracted by the memory of Eddie’s fingers on his skin, and the intensity of his eyes. A nice long shower was exactly what he needed.

“Oh, and Waylon?” Miles called before he could reach the bathroom door. “If he ever does squirt some filling in your chocolate donut, then lemme know, alright?”

Waylon didn’t dignify that with an answer.  
  


* * *

  
He wasn’t sure what he had expected from Frank’s house, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Nestled on a large property enclosed by trees on all sides, was a one-story building with a deck that was larger than the house itself. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, with painted shutters and shingled roof. What really made it stand out were the lights that were strung along the deck, and out towards a fire pit with benches around it.

“Wow,” Waylon breathed.

“It’s good, right?” Miles preened like he’d somehow built the house himself. “Just wait ‘til it gets dark.”

“Miles! Waylon!” Frank came around the back and raised his hand. Even from that distance, and ever with all that hair, his grin was infectious. “You made it!”

“Got him nice and showered even!” Miles called back to Waylon’s utter dismay.

“Jesus Christ, Miles. Are you my pimp now?”

“Wasn’t I always?” Miles winked and hooked an arm around Waylon’s shoulder.

When they came closer, Waylon realized that Frank had made an effort as well. He must have used some kind of beard oil, because it was almost dripping with the stuff. Over jeans and a shirt was an apron with the sentence ‘kiss the cook’ stamped across the chest.

“The whole gang is coming,” Frank said once they got closer. “I’m so happy I could shit.”

Waylon tried to hide the look on his face, only to burst out laughing when Miles gave a heartfelt “ _Same_.” in return. Seemed like the two really had found a kindred spirit in each other.

“Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Frank gave Waylon a look over. “Eddie’s gonna be all over you in that outfit, no homo.” He giggled. “I mean, no homo from me, not sure he’ll say the same, get it?!”

He started pushing them towards the deck.

“Chris is bringing a keg, Dennis just finished some fruity drink mixing class, so God knows what he’ll bring. And get this!” He slapped Miles across the back. “Pyro’s bringing smoked ham, hah! Can you believe it?” He squeezed in between them and grabbed on to their shoulders so he could steer them towards the small house. “Martin’s probably bringing a Bible or some shit.”

“And Eddie?” Miles leaned forward so he could grin at Waylon. “What’s he bringing? Condoms?”

“Hah! Maybe a butt plug? Are ya into butt plugs, Waylon?”

Both Frank and Miles looked at Waylon expectantly, with matching grins to boot.

“Uh.” Waylon tried to break out of Frank’s hold, to no avail. “No comment.”

“You see that twitch there?” Miles said, pointing to Waylon’s face. “That means he’s _lying_.”

“So he does like butt plugs… Good to know!” Frank chortled. “Well, good for Eddie, I guess.”

The deck wrapped from the front off to one of the sides, and Frank had really outdone himself. Where the diner was gaudy, the deck was comforting and inviting, with benches and chairs with blankets and pillows.

“I’m really pumping up the romance here,” Frank said and scratched his head. “Not saying you’ll get laid tonight, but I guarantee there’ll be kissin’.”

Something hot pooled in Waylon’s stomach at the thought of that.

“And who knows?” Frank grinned. “If you both need to sleep over, I got a guest bedroom.” He waggled his eyebrows. “With just one bed in it.”

“Oh brother,” Waylon groaned, while Miles started guffawing.  
  


* * *

  
Not even half an hour later, and the deck was filled with Eddie’s friends. At first Waylon had questioned why Eddie had gotten a later invitation than the others, but now he understood why. Frank treated the whole affair as a game of Chess, where everyone had a specific plan and strategy. Except, instead of defeating the King, it was all about getting Waylon and Eddie into bed together. Waylon would have been mortified, had he not given up on the situation long ago.

Martin, an older gentleman with kind eyes, had not brought a Bible, as it turned out, but a huge bowl of Ambrosia salad. Dennis, a young man with a nervous disposition, had brought along a wide array of alcohol, juices, sodas and mixing bowls, and had talked Frank into dragging an old desk out to use as a makeshift bar.

Frank was standing by a large grill with Pyro, while loudly discussing both how to make the pork as tender as possible, and how to get Eddie to admit his true feelings. Waylon had retreated to a bench by the wall, staring wistfully at the view. He didn’t even have Miles there to keep his thoughts from looping, since he was caught up in a discussion with Chris on the legality of breaking and entering abandoned buildings without the actual breaking.

“W-w-what’ll you have, Waylon?” Dennis called for him. “C-care for a M-my Sherry Amore?” He grinned. “It has l-love in the name!”

“Sure.” Waylon walked over, and watched as Dennis started mixing Gin, grapefruit juice, and a bunch of other drinks that Waylon couldn’t name together.

“You a-alright?” Dennis shook the pitcher and sent Waylon a sympathetic smile. “O-overwhelming, h-huh?”

“You got that right.” Waylon sighed and accepted the drink. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little scared."

“Scared? Scared of what?” Frank came up from behind and put his arm around Waylon’s shoulders again. “Not the meat, right?”

What Eddie had said about Frank’s food went through Waylon’s head, but he didn’t say as much. Instead he chuckled nervously. “What do you think?” he asked instead.

“Think h-he means E-Eddie,” Dennis said, wiping down the desk.

“You’re still on about that?” Frank slapped his back. “He likes ya already, cross my heart!”

“Besides, Frank would be the one who got in trouble, isn’t that right, Manera?” Miles finally tore himself away from Chris, and raised his beer to toast them. “He’s the one that lied about the website.”

“Hey, Waylon’s the one lying about Linda!”

“Lisa.”

“Lisa, Linda, whatever.” Frank waved him off.

“What would you even say to him, though? Hell, what would I say?” Waylon’s shoulders slumped. “He’ll inevitably find out I’m not who he thinks he is, and that the Lisa he thinks he knows isn’t real.”

Frank scratched his head again and gave a sheepish smile. “I’d say ‘Settle down, Eddie, he may not have a vagina, but he still has an anus.’” He grinned, obviously very proud of his reply while Miles tried to force down a choked giggle.

Waylon was about to say something, when he got interrupted by a hand on his upper arm.

“Hush!” Pyro said. “There’s Eddie now!”

“Everyone in position,” Frank said, his voice pitched low and his eyes glinting. “The game’s about to begin.”


	15. Eddie (+ Picture!)

 

A massive thank you to the very lovely [Whackink](https://twitter.com/WhackInk) who's made some truly amazing artworks for this story. I urge everyone to head over to twitter to check it out! 

[Here](https://twitter.com/WhackInk/status/1082105874154508289), [here](https://twitter.com/WhackInk/status/1077590155203145729) and [here](https://twitter.com/WhackInk/status/1074837940310851585)! Thank you so much, I love them ♥  
  


* * *

  
Frank had told him to come by at seven for ‘good meats and decent treats’, but when Eddie arrived ten minutes early, it was to the sight of everyone already being present. That in itself was unusual enough - Chris was almost always a solid half hour late, while Pyro sometimes didn’t show up at all - but what really made Eddie uneasy was the fact that they all stared at him like sheep in headlights when he made his way over.

That uneasiness melted away when he saw Waylon sitting by the wall with a drink in his hands. He very much doubted Waylon would allow the others to do one of their practical jokes, unless they had all secretly planned for Lisa to arrive during the course of the evening.

He quickly pushed the hope of that aside, he very much doubted that Waylon and Lisa would do a reveal like that at Frank's house of all places, and started instead on the few steps up to the deck.

“Heya Eddie!” Frank called out, and immediately came over to accept the cake Eddie had picked up at the local bakery, while thrusting a half-empty bottle of beer into his now free hand. “Come join us!”

Eddie grimaced and deposited the half-empty beer on the nearest table, while allowing Frank to lead him onto the deck. Instead of taking him to Waylon, though, he pushed him in Pyro’s direction.

“Shouldn’t I…?” Eddie let the sentence hang in the air, but Frank didn’t answer. Eddie tried to send an apologetic smile Waylon’s way, before finding himself face to face with the biggest piece of pork he’d ever seen.

“Smoked this ham myself,” Pyro said, grinning, not bothering with any polite social behavior.

“That’s really impressive, but I really-” Eddie tried to shrug out of Frank’s hold.

“Are you not interested?” Pyro blinked. “You’ll just eat it, mindlessly, while not caring about the hardship I went through to prepare it for you?”

Eddie stared at him, before glancing behind him to where Waylon was. Then he gave a defeated sigh.

“Fine.” Eddie tried to fake a smile. “How did you do it?”  
  


* * *

  
After suffering through what could have been minutes, but felt like hours, of the intricacies of smoking pork, Eddie turned only to have Chris snake an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, Eddie, did I ever tell you about what happened at work last week?”

“Uh, no, but I really ought to-”

“Are you not interested in the hardships of a security guard?” Chris glared at Eddie. “Do you not care about one of your oldest friends?”

“Of course, but-”

“But what? You don’t have time for my stories?”

This was all very unusual. Chris was usually the less emotional of all of them, but now he was close to sulking. For God’s sake, the man even had a pout. Eddie looked over his shoulder in Waylon’s direction, only to find him talking to Miles. He gritted his teeth.

“What happened this time?” Eddie asked, knowing fully well he was going to regret it.

The pout melted from Chris’ face, and he came as close to a smile as Eddie had ever seen.

“Well, you see, Waylon’s friend Miles was the one who-”

“Do you like Ambrosia salad?” Martin cut in, showing Eddie a large bowl of colorful fruits and marshmallows drenched in sour cream.

“Sure, but…”

“E-Eddie!” Dennis called before Eddie had the chance say anything more. At this point, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say they were all trying to keep him from seeing Waylon at all.

That didn’t make any sense though, and Eddie furrowed his brow.

“H-how ‘b-bout a drink, E-Eddie?” Dennis smiled hopefully, while spreading his arms out in front of the wide array of bottles he had on his makeshift bar. “I’ve b-been practicing!”

Eddie arched an eyebrow. “How about a beer?”

Dennis’ face immediately fell.

“He learned how to mix drinks, Eddie, not brew beer,” Martin chastised mildly.

“Okay, okay, do you have anything light, then?”

“H-how ‘bout some L-long Island iced tea?”

Frank made a choked sound behind Eddie, but Eddie didn’t much care about his opinion. Sure, it sounded innocently enough, but Eddie quite liked ice tea. He’d spent many of his childhood summers on the front porch with sweet iced tea. While the weather called for anything but cold drinks, the deck was still nice and comfortable due to the space heaters Frank had left near the sitting area. Eddie nodded, much to Dennis’ delight.

While Dennis started mixing things together in a pitcher, Eddie realized that Chris was still holding him firmly, as if he was afraid he’d run away. It really was very unusual. Before he could say something, though, Dennis handed him the drink. It certainly looked like the ice tea of his childhood, rich and amber colored. Classier than the beer too, Eddie decided, eyeing the slice of lemon cut to fit the rim of the glass.

He took a sip, and then immediately another one. It tasted like his childhood too, sweet and tart, like long summer nights and fresh lemons. God, he had to have another sip. It had a slight aftertaste, as if the tea had been let steep too long, but he wasn’t about to tell Dennis that. He had a look on his face like a dog waiting for a treat after performing a trick, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to disappoint the guy.

“It’s good,” Eddie said, and had another, deeper, gulp of it. “Real good, actually. Well done, Dennis.” He placed the glass on the makeshift bar, surprised to find it nearly empty. It had certainly disappeared faster than he’d thought it would, and Dennis preened and gave him a knowing smile before making another.

With the ice tea in one hand, Eddie started walking over to Waylon, glancing around to see if anyone would intercept them again. Nobody did, though, and Waylon seemed to shot up straighter when he saw Eddie coming.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “Long time, no see.”

Eddie chuckled and sat down next to him. Waylon had a blanket over his shoulders, and a drink in hand.

“The others seemed to want to keep me from you.”

“I’m glad you could pull away then,” Waylon said, while he trailed his finger along the condensation on the glass. He seemed more relaxed than when Eddie had watched him from afar, and Eddie was just about to ask about it when Frank’s voice called out.

“Food’s ready!” Frank declared, while putting a giant platter of meat on the table. “Get it while it’s hot!”

Eddie frowned as Frank started ushering everyone to the table.  
  
Figured.

* * *

  
For some reason Eddie and Waylon had been placed on opposite sides of the table, and Eddie had spent most of the meal staring miserably in his direction. He had longed for them to continue their conversation from earlier, but they never seemed to have the chance.

It was only after the meal, and after another Long Island iced tea, that he found himself alone with Waylon again.

They sat down together by the fire pit, their faces heated from the flames. The others were talking in various small groups of their own, their voices barely audible over the music playing. It really struck Eddie how much nicer this was to the usual get togethers Frank hosted. He’d really made an effort this time, no doubt to welcome Waylon and Miles to the group.

Nicer with the company too. Waylon’s cheeks had a slight flush again, probably a combination of the fire and the alcohol, and it struck Eddie again how cute he was.

“Are you having a nice time?” Eddie asked, moving a bit closer.

Waylon turned to him, and for a second his eyes were totally unguarded. Eddie saw something in those eyes, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to move closer or run away. He must have had too little sleep, because his head was feeling a little funny.

“I bet you wish she was here instead of me, huh?” Waylon asked, shaking Eddie out of it.

“What? Lisa?” Eddie leaned closer, searching Waylon’s eyes. “Is that really what you think?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Waylon broke eye contact to look into the fire instead, the glow reflecting off his face. “You’re always talking about her.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but the warmth seemed to seep out of Eddie’s bones at the expression on Waylon’s face.

“Darling,” Eddie breathed and grasped Waylon’s hand. His hand felt cold in Eddie’s hold, and he placed the palm of his other hand over Waylon’s. “I’ve hurt you.”

“It’s silly,” Waylon said, but he held onto Eddie’s hand a little tighter. “I have no right to be jealous.”

“Jealous?” Eddie asked. “Why would you be?”

Waylon looked away.

“Eddie…” He sounded pained. “There’s things I feel I should tell you.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s a lie. There are things I _have_ to tell you.”

“Darling,” Eddie pulled Waylon closer. “What are you talking about?”

“There are things you-” Waylon opened his eyes and looked up at Eddie. “I’m afraid you won’t like me if I told you.”

“I would never stop liking you,” Eddie murmured. “You mean a lot to me.”

Eddie blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and with a frown he let Waylon’s hand go. Then, to hide his own embarrassment, he took a long sip of his iced tea.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Waylon said, half pointing at Eddie’s glass. “You’re drunk.”

Eddie’s frown deepened. Waylon’s voice seemed muffled by cotton, like his head was filled with the stuff. “That’s not true. I don’t drink,” he explained.

Even before he stopped talking, Waylon raised his head and gave Eddie a wide-eyed stare.

“Y-You don’t drink?”

“No,” Eddie said, creasing his forehead. “I do not. Well, aside from the occasional beer.”

“Dennis didn’t tell you there’s hard liquor in that?” Waylon pointed to the glass.

Eddie froze and stared at the glass in his hands before slowly, very slowly, raising his gaze to the makeshift bar, only to find it deserted, Dennis nowhere in sight.

“Filthy fucking-” Eddie cut himself off and rubbed over his face with one hand. “At least it doesn’t seem to affect me much.”

“Right.” Waylon chuckled and started moving away.

“It’s true!” Eddie grabbed ahold of Wayon’s hand again, stopping him from moving. “I mean it. All of it.”

“I wish you did.” Waylon looked away, but didn’t make any effort to pull away.

This wasn’t right. Eddie’s frown deepened. He was trying so hard to explain to Waylon that he cared, but nothing was coming out right. Everything else paled compared to this, even the music had gone muted in the night, the other’s conversations lost. All that mattered was expressing himself to Waylon, although he couldn’t say why it mattered so much.

“What will it take?” he asked, and he couldn’t hide the intensity of the question. Waylon no doubt saw it too, because he squirmed a little in Eddie’s hold. “Tell me, what can I do?”

“Not be drunk, for one,” Waylon said. “All you could say about me sober was that I was _nice_.” His voice had taken on a slight accusatory edge to it.

“But you _are_ nice.”

“God, Eddie…” Waylon groaned. “I never know where I have you.” He sighed. “And it’s all my fault, if only I’d-”

“I don’t understand.”

“I keep doing this, it’s a pattern.” Waylon pushed his hair out of his eyes with his free hand. “I find someone, and they’re always unattainable. You, Jeremy-”

“Jeremy?”

“He’s-” Waylon swallowed. “Fuck. I hate talking about him. He’s my ex.”

“Jeremy…” Eddie blinked. “Your ex?”

Eddie watched Waylon fidget, and he wasn’t sure how to describe how he felt. His chest felt oddly tight, and unbidden memories from his childhood flashed through his mind. His first instinct was to back away, run away even, lest his father find out.

“Yeah, he…” Waylon gave a short little laugh. “He wasn’t very nice.”

That snapped Eddie back to reality, and he looked Waylon over.

“He hurt you?”

Waylon scoffed. “Yeah, you can say that.”

“What happened?”

With a tentative look, Waylon sighed and shook his head. “The classics. Working late every night. Snapped if I asked about it.” He downed the rest of his glass. “Told me it was none of my business who he partied with. Then he decided I shouldn’t hang around Miles anymore. Told me he was bad news and would only put ideas in my head.” Waylon gave a bitter smile.

“How did you finally get away?” Eddie asked, his chest aching.

“Not easily.” Waylon lifted up the hem of his shirt.

For a moment Eddie was unsure what he was trying to show him, too lost in the sliver of silky skin he could see. Then Waylon angled himself more towards the fire, and Eddie saw the thin, silvery line slashed across his lower abdomen. Eddie startled.

“He cut you?” Eddie couldn’t help himself, he reached out and let the tips of his fingers brush across the scar. Where Waylon’s hands had been icy cold, his stomach was burning hot, like there was a furnace burning within him.

“Thankfully it was shallow enough,” Waylon said, and his voice had taken on a breathless quality again. “He said he’d cut deeper next time, if I ever left him.”

“But you did.” Eddie tore his eyes away from his fingers on Waylon’s skin.

“I did.” Waylon’s voice softened. “Jeremy was right about one thing; Miles really put ideas in my head. The right ones.”

Eddie looked over Waylon’s shoulder to where Miles, Chris and Pyro were playing cards, and felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards the man.

“I’m glad you got away,” Eddie said. Then, while still looking at Miles, he added, “Glad for you, and, selfishly, glad for me.”

When he looked back at Waylon’s face, he found that Waylon was watching him intently. Eddie blinked and slid his fingers further in under Waylon’s shirt, feeling Waylon’s breathing pick up beneath his hand when he did. It was all so strange, his head swimming.

Feeling braver, he moved his hand completely under Waylon’s shirt, skirting it just shy of the hem of Waylon’s pants before he slid it up Waylon’s waist. His skin was so smooth, and so very warm.

“Glad for you?” Waylon breathed.

“I’m glad because that lead you to me.”

“Why?” Waylon studied Eddie’s face, and Eddie would have felt naked beneath that gaze, was it not for the heat beneath his fingers and the flickering light across Waylon’s skin.

Eddie ignored his father’s voice in the back of his mind.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe… you could make me whole again,” Eddie mumbled, pulling Waylon closer.

“Eddie.” Waylon was breathing heavily, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. “We can’t. I can’t. This isn’t right.”

“Is there someone else?” Eddie growled, not releasing Waylon’s waist.

“Someone else?” Waylon breathed. “No, only you, Eddie.”

Those words sent a kind of madness through Eddie, and he moved his other hand under Waylon’s shirt as well, until both hands were greedily touching as much of Waylon's skin as he could reach. His heart was beating so fast in his chest that he wondered if Waylon could hear, but one look at his face told him that Waylon was as far gone himself. He actually groaned just then, squirming under Eddie’s touch.

“ _Ed_ ,” he whispered.

Forgetting where they were entirely, Eddie all but pulled Waylon onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Waylon smelled… Eddie wasn’t sure he even had words for it. He smelled like clean, warm skin and firewood. He smelled of home. More than that, he felt a bit like home as well, like all Eddie had ever waited for was for Waylon to be in his arms.

He was just about to say as much when a loud whistle broke through his haze.

“Get a room, you two!” Frank shouted, while Pyro wolf-whistled and Miles giggled. Chris didn’t say anything, just looked at them with something akin to disapproval.

“I-” Waylon planted his hands on Eddie’s chest and pushed himself away from Eddie’s hold, now gone slack. “I gotta go.”

“Wait,” Eddie said weakly, but Waylon was already too far away to hear him. Eddie glared at Frank, who immediately put his hands up in surrender, although his grin didn't falter.

Eddie got up as well, and almost lost his balance for a moment. “Goddammit,” he slurred under his breath, before sending the others another venomous glare. Then he started making his way after Waylon, cursing quietly all the while.

He’d just turned the corner of Frank’s house when he saw Waylon leaned against the wall at the other end.

“Waylon,” he said, and as soon as he did, Waylon’s gaze snapped up to him.

“Eddie,” Waylon all but groaned and pushed himself away from the wall. “You should go home, Eddie, you’re drunk and you’re-”

“You shouldn’t run away from me like that,” Eddie interrupted, and hurt had crept into his tone.

“You need to go home, Eddie. I need to go home. Then, when we’re both nice and sober tomorrow, we should talk. We should-” Waylon groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll talk to you later, alright? I can’t do this now.”

When Waylon turned to leave, Eddie got a sudden, terrible feeling that if he let Waylon leave now, then he’d never see him again. Despite their newly formed friendship, the thought was still enough to make Eddie’s head swim.

“Waylon,” Eddie murmured, and grabbed onto his arms. Then, with a swift grab and a turn, he soon had Waylon pinned against the wall.

Waylon looked like he had near the fire, although this time there was no actual fire to account for the heat on his face and the shine in his eyes.

“Eddie,” he whispered, squirming a little in Eddie’s hold.

“Darling.” Eddie leaned forward, feeling blood rush through his veins and then he finally closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Waylon’s.

There was a brief moment where Waylon simply gasped in surprise against the kiss, before he started kissing back in earnest, pressing his whole body closer to Eddie with a groan until all Eddie could taste, feel and hear was Waylon, Waylon, Waylon.

And God, it was like a fever, like a sickness. It overtook Eddie’s mind completely, and he didn’t even feel in control of his own actions as he dug his fingers into Waylon’s ass and pushed his knee between Waylon’s legs. He didn’t understand it - couldn’t understand it.

It seemed that same fever had hit Waylon, because he moaned into the kiss while grinding against Eddie, and Eddie felt mad with it. He wanted nothing more than to claim Waylon just then, and he groaned against Waylon’s mouth.

The action seemed to wake Waylon from whatever trance they were under.

“No,” he panted. He had his eyes closed, looking pained. “We can’t. You’re in love with Lisa, you’re-” He shook his head and shrugged out of Eddie’s hold. He didn’t look at Eddie’s face, as if that would change his mind. Instead he turned around. “I’ll talk to you later, Eddie.”

“Waylon.” Eddie reached out to touch him, but Waylon put his hand up without a word, before moving away.

This time Eddie simply watched him go, his head and stomach churning.

Then and only then did it strike him that he hadn’t thought about Lisa for hours.


	16. Waylon

Despite the fact that Frank’s house was just a few blocks away from the motel, the brisk walk there felt endless.

Waylon was halfway hoping, halfway fearing that Eddie would follow him. Hoping, because all he ever wanted was to be close to Eddie, and fearing it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to turn Eddie’s passes down if he were to try again. He still couldn’t quite believe the others had sunk to the level of actually getting Eddie drunk to make a pass at him. It was mortifying. Even more so because Eddie had- Waylon flushed and tried not to think about Eddie’s lips and hands. He wasn’t sure how he could ever face him again.

“Hey, Waylon! Wait up!”

With a grumble and gritting of teeth, Waylon stopped long enough for Miles to catch up to him.

“Hey, why’d you go? It was starting to get interest-”

“Did you know?” Waylon snapped.

“Know what?” Miles had the audacity to look surprised.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Waylon started walking again, while Miles followed right behind. “You all got him drunk to get him to hit on me, right?”

“‘Got him drunk’?” Miles laughed. “Last I checked Eddie’s a grown-up. I very much doubt he-”

“He didn’t even know Long Island iced tea had alcohol in it,” Waylon groaned, running his fingers through his unruly hair again. “I told him right before he kissed me.”

“Hold up.” Miles grabbed ahold of Waylon’s jacket sleeve and yanked him back. “He kissed you? Like, where did he kiss you? Before you stormed off I saw him latching on to your neck, but not…” he trailed off. “So it worked.”

“Yeah, getting him drunk worked. Good job.”

God, Waylon wasn’t even angry, yet he couldn’t stop lashing out at Miles. He swallowed hard and sighed. “Listen, Miles. I’m sorry. I got my hopes up, okay?” He glanced up at Miles, who looked just as hopeful as Waylon had felt. “We were by the fire and he said some really nice things, and then I realized he was just piss-drunk.”

“From the start?” Miles blinked. “Cuz I gotta tell you, he had the puppy eyes from the moment he arrived. Didn’t you see him?”

“No, I... “ Waylon shook his head. “What?”

“Our plan wasn’t to get him drunk, Waylon. The plan was to keep him from you as long as possible, to see how he’d react.” With a grin Miles flung an arm over Waylon’s shoulders. “And you should have seen him. If I didn’t think he was into you before, I do now, kiss or no kiss.” He stopped Waylon before he could protest. “Alcohol or no alcohol, alright? Trust uncle Miles, dear boy.”

“That might be the creepiest thing you’ve ever said,” Waylon groaned, but fell into pace with him all the same. Then he mumbled after a short pause. “So you really think it was more than just the alcohol?”

“Positive. Every time someone stopped him from seeing you, he got all scary.” Miles bumped his shoulder into Waylon’s. “Did you know you found yourself a scary dude? What is he, six foot five?”

The memory of Eddie pinning him to the wall and covering Waylon’s mouth with his shot through Waylon, and he gave a weak shudder.

“Pfft,” Miles scoffed. “Did you cream your pants just now? Is that like a kink or something? What about his weight, will that make you shudder too? His looks?”

“Shut up.”

“His eyes are like a clear morning sky with the first blush of May.” Miles stared at Waylon’s face while he spoke. “A piercing azure that speaks of water and-”

“Now I’m starting to think you’re the one with a crush on him.” Waylon laughed and tilted his head up to the sky. “I feel better, though. Thank you. I was ready to bolt.”

“Fuck, if you leave now, I think you’d be leaving with Frank’s heart as well.”

“Serves him right,” Waylon said, light despite his words. “Getting Eddie drunk without telling him.”

“Hey, is that any way to talk about the guy who got you a kiss from your crush? Crash the party then badmouth the host, shame on you, Waylon.”’

“Yeah, shame on me alright.” Waylon snorted. “And I didn’t crash his party.”

Despite how relatively innocuous his exchange with Eddie had been, Waylon did feel ashamed. He didn’t want to see Eddie, but still he felt the need to apologize, whether any of it was his fault, or not.

“You think too much,” Miles said, knocking his head sideways into Waylon’s.

“One of us has to.”

“Ouch.”

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, Waylon’s thoughts a million miles away.

“You like him, huh?” Miles suddenly asked, and when Waylon shook out of his thoughts, he realized he had his fingers pressed against his own lips.

“That obvious?”

“Well, I suppose the living room masturbation and the goofy grins was enough of a tell, but…” Miles paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, before he continued. “I think it’s time for you to be honest with that man of yours.”

“Agreed.” Waylon had to suppress a groan. “I just don’t know how.”

“I’d say get him to bed,” Miles said. “Then after he’s come, and he’s nice and lax… Bam.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice way to get murdered.”

They continued on in silence, Miles clearly thinking harder than his mind could keep up with. Whenever Waylon glanced over, he had a strange, childlike expression on his face, like he was trying to literally squeeze out a good idea.

“God, Miles, what are you doing?” Waylon finally laughed, and snapped Miles out of it.

“Just trying to get the perfect idea here.” He paused. “Frank seemed to think that his plan today was fool-proof.”

“Well, only takes one of me to fail even the most fool-proof of plans,” Waylon mumbled.

“Hey, it took two, if I’m not mistaken,” Miles helpfully supplemented, before he added, “Unless you count Eddie as two, considering he’s two hundred pounds of hard, firm muscle.”

Waylon shuddered.

“Hah! I knew it!”

The mocking was a small price to pay for that mental image of Eddie’s body.  
  


* * *

  
He couldn’t sleep.

Miles was snoring, of course, because he never seemed to have a single problem falling asleep. No matter where they were, no matter the time of day, you could always depend on Miles getting some quality sleep in between adventures.

Waylon on the other hand, had too much on his mind to sleep. The talk with Miles had made him feel a little bit better, but his head was in a state of turmoil all the same.

He’d vaguely considered logging on to see if Eddie was online, but he wasn’t sure what he’d say, or if he could keep up pretenses after what had happened. It would be hard to pretend after feeling the firm pressure of Eddie’s lips on him, or the even firmer outline of- Waylon cut the thought there, and tried to suppress a groan as he hid his head under the scratchy covers.

Every time he closed his eyes, though, he was right back to the wall, pinned by Eddie, feeling the warmth from his body. Except here, with guilt prickling in the back of his throat, all he could imagine was Eddie whispering _“Perl”_ into his ear as they rutted against each other.

With a groan he sat back up in bed. He couldn’t decide if what he needed was a long, cold shower, a really hot one, or some fresh air to clear his mind.

He glanced over at Miles, seeing just the outline of him in the darkness of the room, accompanied by the rumble of his gentle snores. Somehow not the ambiance he was after, so he figured he’d take that fresh air instead.

It was probably unnecessary, considering Miles slept like the dead, but Waylon scribbled a note for him all the same. From there he quietly dressed, and shut the door softly behind him on his way out.

The night was almost over, he realized with a sinking feeling. He’d tossed and turned in bed longer than he had hoped. At least it meant the temperature had risen, compared to the walk he and Miles had taken earlier.

He followed the main road, past a friendly looking café, breathing in the fresh air.

Miles was right. He’d have to come clean to Eddie. Despite it not being fully his fault, the situation had still spun wildly out of control, to the point where Waylon wasn’t even sure how he could start to stabilize the situation. But he had to try.

He ran a hand through his hair again, sighed, and tried to imagine how he’d even start the conversation at all.

_“Hey, Eddie, you know how you thought Perl was my sister? Well, I don’t actually have a sister, Lisa’s my ex-girlfriend! Surprise!”_

At least he now knew Waylon was gay, if nothing else.

A car honked and startled him out of it. Without even being aware of it, he had crossed the road and almost gotten hit in the process. Fuck. He was too tense and on edge even for something as relaxing as an early morning walk.

He looked up, and winced. He was right outside Eddie’s shop, as if his feet had taken him there without him even being conscious of it.

“Fuck,” he mumbled.

Both the shop and the apartment upstairs were dark, no lights shining from the inside at all.

 _Perhaps Eddie’s still at Frank’s,_ Waylon thought, his skin prickling again. _Maybe he’s sleeping it off on his couch._

The smart thing would definitely be to turn around, go back to the motel, get a good night's sleep and leave in the morning. He couldn’t do this anymore. Not the lying, the guilt or any of the other things. The impending threat of rejection was another motivator. Sadly, Waylon knew he wasn’t always a smart man.

He took a very deep breath, held it, and stepped forward to the door. Once there he exhaled, shook his head, and gave the door three solid knocks.

No, he wasn't a very smart man at all.


	17. Eddie

Eddie dreamt.

In his dream he was back at Frank’s house, Lisa leaned up against the wall, looking up at him through her long, blonde locks. Eddie stalked closer, until he was near enough to touch her.

“Darling,” he breathed, running his fingers through her hair, which suddenly seemed a lot shorter than it had just a moment ago. “Why’d you cut your hair?”

It wasn’t unflattering, although the short, ruffled hairstyle made her face appear more angular, her brow bone more pronounced.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, _Ed_ ,” she whispered, tilting her head up as if to beg him to kiss her.

“ _Minx_ ,” Eddie murmured against her lips before he obliged, enjoying the way she melted into the kiss. His blood was thrumming in his veins and rushing in his ears at the taste and feel of her.  
.  
She felt so solid in his arms, and although Eddie knew, still in dreams, that it wasn’t real, it still _felt_ real, like actual tangible memories of someone he was yet to meet.

“Ed,” she breathed against him. “Eddie.”

His hands moved from her face to her shoulders, trailing them down over her arms before touching her waist and hips. Her body was different than he had imagined, strong and angular, not the yielding curves he’d envisioned.

Not that he was complaining. She was strong as she pushed against him, demanding almost, and Eddie was only too happy to indulge her.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice low and husky.

Now dreams were strange and didn’t follow any rules from the real world, and soon Eddie found himself with her naked beneath him in bed. Then, with a revelation that didn't at all feel that surprising, he realized that it wasn’t Lisa below him, but _Waylon_ , stretched out like a cat, wanton and ready. And God, it wasn’t a dream, it was a fever, overtaking Eddie’s mind completely.

It seemed that same fever had hit Waylon, because he arched his back and ground his hips against Eddie, and Eddie felt mad with it. He wanted to claim Waylon, mar him. Just take and take and _take_.

Waylon didn’t mind, in fact he just arched more fully into Eddie’s hands, groaning deeply when Eddie sank to the hilt inside him.

“You have lovely skin,” Eddie murmured. “Much like your sister.”

That thought sent shivers down his back, although he didn’t fully know why right away. Then it hit him. Waylon’s sister. Perl. _Lisa_.

God, this was wrong. Even in dreams Eddie knew this. He couldn’t cheat on his Lisa with her own brother. With a groan Eddie pulled back, only to be pulled back in when Waylon put his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“B-but Lis-sa...” Eddie groaned.

“Shhh.” Waylon wrapped his legs tightly around Eddie. “What she doesn't know won't hurt her.”

“You whore.” Eddie tried to pull away again, but dream Waylon was impossibly strong and pulled him right back in.

“Just for you.” Waylon let out a chuckled groan as Eddie gave in and snapped his hips forward.

It seemed like it went on forever, slick skin against skin, Waylon’s demanding, breathy gasps, and Eddie’s head that swam with guilt and pleasure.

It didn’t make sense to him, he knew it was a dream, yet the shock of seeing Waylon’s face contorted in pleasure did something to him all the same.

“I’m gonna come in you,” Eddie groaned as Waylon dug his fingers into the firm line of Eddie’s shoulders. “I’m gonna fill you up.”

He was thrusting into Waylon harder, and he latched on to Waylon’s neck, feeling his pulse race. He was so close, just a few more thrusts and he’d-

Eddie startled awake, not knowing at first what had woken him. He groaned and covered his face in his hands. Either it was way too early, or it was way too late; the light shining through the window was pale and muted, barely there at all.

He was on his stomach in bed, still cradling his head. How much had he been drinking? Eddie didn’t even know anymore. At the moment he could barely remember anything at all.

At least, until everything came flooding back.

Waylon. The kiss. _Lisa_.

Eddie’s eyes went wide, staring down into his pillow at nothing at all.

He had kissed Waylon. A man. Lisa’s brother. He had kissed him. More than that, he had touched him too.

“Oh God,” Eddie murmured into his hands. He had even _dreamt_ about him.

He was gonna murder Frank. Nevermind Dennis, he was no doubt working under Frank’s command. But Frank? Oh, he was the mastermind. A _dead_ mastermind when Eddie got his hands on him.

Then came the mental images; his hands on Waylon’s hips, Waylon’s glassy, lustful eyes and how he had gasped into the kiss. Dear God. His cock was still hard from the dream, and he hated to admit that the memories from last night didn’t help at all.

He wasn’t sure how to approach this. How to address it. How to even process it. Perhaps Waylon didn’t remember. Perhaps Lisa never had to know. Eddie shook his head with a groan. He couldn't keep something like this a secret, could he?

Luckily, he didn’t have to ponder it for long, because there was a harsh knock on the door downstairs, and with a start Eddie realized that was probably what had woken him.

That forced him into action, and he threw a shirt on that he buttoned on his way down the stairs, cursing and trying to will his persistent erection away.

Once in front of the doors, he smoothed his hair back, cleared his throat, and hoped it wouldn’t be too blatantly obvious that he’d just awoken from something that might very well have ended as a very wet dream. It was mortifying, had he not been interrupted he’d-

His mind blanked as he opened the door, seeing Waylon on the other side of it.

There was a brief moment where Waylon’s face paled, then went very pink, and he sucked in a breath.

“Hi,” Waylon said, hesitant, and Eddie forced himself to breathe.

“Hi.”

They stood in silence, just regarding each other, before Eddie finally came to his senses and stepped aside.

“Do you want to-?”

“Sure.”

Their earlier, easy friendship was suddenly gone, replaced by something awkward and tensed. Eddie didn’t know how to address it, if he should at all.

He hated to admit it, but seeing Waylon’s face, flushed and embarrassed, made the dream seem more real. He could perfectly well imagine pushing Waylon back up against the wall, claiming him completely like he had in the dream, while-

“Eddie?”

Eddie startled, and found Waylon staring at him.

“You alright?” Waylon’s voice had taken on a slightly nervous edge.

“I’m fine.” He crossed the floor and started on his way up the stairs. He walked ahead this time, not wanting the sight of Waylon’s hips and backside right in his field of vision again. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, thank you.”

They both fell silent again. It was putting Eddie’s teeth on edge, this oppressive, awkward silence. He tried to find something to say, anything, but the things that ran through his mind were not fit to say out loud.

He disappeared into the kitchen, getting some temporary relief, while preparing the coffee. It was late, he realized when looking at the time. Or very early, depending on how you saw it. Well, he wasn’t gonna be able to go back asleep anyway, so a cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt.

When he walked out of the kitchen with two cups and a plate of savory muffins he’d dug out of the freezer, he found Waylon by the window seat again, staring out at the street outside. He put the cup and plate down in front of him, before retreating to the seat on the opposite side of the table.

“So,” he started, raising his cup to his mouth, only to burn his tongue on the hot coffee.

“Sorry for coming so early.” Waylon had taken to wringing his shirt between his hands again. “I knew it was early, but not this early, and-”

“It’s fine,” Eddie assured him, putting the coffee cup back onto the table.

Another few moments of silence passed, before Waylon spoke again.

“About the party.” He glanced up at Eddie, before looking back down to his hands. “About what happened.”

Eddie went very still, wondering if he should lie, pretend like he didn’t remember anything, or admit to everything. Everything but the dream, at least.

“I feel like-” Waylon started, then he shifted, raised the cup from the table, then reconsidered and put it back down. “- like I took advantage of you.”

Eddie let out of a puff of air to keep himself from laughing.

“What?”

“The alcohol, I-” Waylon fidgeted. “I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Oh, darling.” Eddie got up and crossed the meager distance between them. “You did nothing wrong.” He grasped Waylon’s hands with both of his.

Waylon was looking up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Eddie couldn’t decide if he looked afraid or turned on.

“If anything I should apologize.” He brushed his thumb over Waylon’s knuckles. “I crossed so many lines. I did something inexcusable. I don’t know where to begin apologizing to you and your sister.”

Waylon’s expression changed at that.

“Eddie,” he started, his voice wavering. “About that…”

“No, say no more.” Eddie knelt down in front of Waylon. “I was the one who did everything, so I should be the one to tell your sister. I’ll take all the blame.”

“But Eddie…”

“No.” Eddie kept his voice firm. “This is on me.” Then he chuckled and shook his head. “Did you really think you were the one to blame for the alcohol? Darling, none of that is on you. I just need to learn never to trust Frank.”

Waylon looked indecisive, his gaze flickering. “But-” When he looked back at Eddie’s face, the flush was back on his face. “There are things we need to discuss, Eddie.”

“There are,” Eddie agreed, and his gaze trailed down to Waylon’s lips without his consent.

Waylon seemed to notice, because his ears were bright pink by the time Eddie had refocused on his eyes.

The dream flashed through Eddie’s mind again, how Waylon pressed himself against him, opened up for him. His face when Eddie had sunken into his body.

When Eddie tried to shake the dream, he looked down at their hands and realized Waylon’s legs were opened a fraction more. He saw the long, firm line of Waylon’s thigh, the crease in his jeans where thigh met groin, and the teasing hint of what was beyond the zipper. Eddie swallowed thickly.

“Waylon,” he said, ashamed at how husky his voice suddenly had become.

“Eddie,” Waylon whispered, sounding pained.

They stared at each other in silence after that, both taking labored breaths. Waylon’s pupils had blown wide, leaving just a tiny sliver of grey near the edges, and Eddie reckoned his looked the same. Waylon looked at Eddie in a way that Eddie felt he had never been looked at his entire life. Not just that he saw him, but that he truly _saw_ him.

It was a tragedy, Eddie thought, that Waylon was a man. That he was the brother of the woman he loved. That he cared so much for Waylon it hurt, even though it was very inappropriate, given the relationship he had with his sister.

Waylon’s hand had been lax in his, but now Waylon squeezed his fingers around Eddie’s, before gently trailing them along the sensitive underside of Eddie’s palm. Every inch of skin there felt hardwired to Eddie’s crotch, every touch and slide of Waylon’s fingers sending currents through Eddie’s body.

“God.” Eddie sounded as broken as Waylon did.

“Yes,” Waylon agreed, pulling Eddie closer.

“We shouldn’t.” Eddie looked at Waylon’s face, at his gentle eyes and soft looking lips. “We _can’t_.”

“I know.” Waylon’s tongue darted out over his bottom lip for a second, and Eddie stared at his lips, mesmerized.

He gently pulled one hand out of Waylon’s grasp, before touching Waylon’s chin. Waylon seemed to deflate when he did, melting into the touch like he had in a dream.

“Beautiful,” Eddie murmured, before moving his thumb over Waylon’s bottom lip.

And Waylon, that _minx_ , opened his lips ever so slightly, allowing Eddie to gently slip his thumb between his teeth, where he immediately swiped his tongue over the pad of Eddie’s finger.

And Eddie couldn’t help it, he gave a strangled groan and moved his other hand from Waylon’s in favor of grabbing on to Waylon’s hip, not surprised in the slightest when Waylon arched into the embrace. He wasn’t idle for long, but put his hands on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie moved his thumb out of Waylon’s mouth, moved them back so he could cradle Waylon’s head, before leaning close to cover Waylon’s mouth with his.

It had all gone wrong. There was no intoxication for him to blame anything on now, just the madness of feeling, smelling and tasting Waylon again, and wanting even more. Waylon was no different, he had started unbuttoning Eddie’s shirt, fanning his fingers over every inch of skin he unveiled.

“Fuck,” he groaned against Eddie’s lips. “That picture really did your chest justice.”

Eddie’s mind went very still for a moment, before he could fully process what Waylon had said.

“What?”

Waylon tried to kiss him again, but Eddie pulled away.

“What did you just say?”

“The picture, I-” Waylon got a sudden, strange expression on his face, and he snapped his mouth shut.

“I sent that picture to _Lisa_ ,” Eddie said, pulling away. His stomach churned as he got to his feet. “She showed that to you?” He ran his hands over his face in exasperation. “Just what kind of relationship do the two of you have?”

At the mention of her name, and the thought of the picture he had sent her, Eddie was again struck with just how terrible the whole situation was, and how wrong they were for indulging in this.

“Eddie…” Waylon started, but Eddie cut him off.

“You should go, Waylon. I need to think.”

“But I-”

“Just go!”

Waylon actually flinched back when Eddie raised his voice, making Eddie’s stomach sink.

“Waylon,” he groaned. “I’m sorry, I just… I need to think. I need to talk to Lisa about all of this.”

It looked like Waylon wanted to say something, but in the end he just gave a short little nod and got up. There he paused for a moment, looking again like he wanted to say something, before he finally made for the door.

Eddie watched him go, stomach twisted with emotions he was afraid to name.

“Waylon,” he finally said. “Wait.”

While he did stop, he didn’t turn around. Not until Eddie was right behind him, and Eddie was startled by the expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered, and he couldn’t stop himself from placing his hands on Waylon’s face and kissing him one more time. “I’m sorry for all of this.”

“Me too,” Waylon replied, holding on to one of Eddie’s hands.

“We’ll talk later, I promise.”

Waylon nodded, but said nothing, and Eddie watched him leave. Even with the apologies and kisses, or maybe because of it, Eddie’s heart was still aching.

It felt like Waylon had entered his blood and his heart, everything drumming with the steady beat of Waylon, Waylon, _Waylon_.

A drum that Eddie finally had to admit was getting harder and harder to ignore.


	18. Waylon

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

Waylon gritted his teeth and cursed himself. He probably got almost run over more than once, but he was honestly too angry at himself to notice.

Not just because of his stupid, _stupid_ slip-up, but for coming to Eddie’s shop at all. Hell, for coming to Leadville in the first place. For going along with all the shit Miles dragged him into.

It wasn’t even about Miles. It was about Waylon’s lousy love life and his consistent bad luck. About a man that Waylon had to admit he had fallen madly in love with.

Waylon put a hand to his face as he cringed. Even now, it hurt him to even try and admit that love was exactly what he was feeling. It was so- childish. They had just barely met, and under false pretenses at that.

It didn't take long before he reached the motel and to his surprise Miles was sitting outside on a plastic lawn chair, drinking coffee from a questionable paper cup and seeming way too comfortable for how early it was.

“Heya Waylon!” he said, as if nothing about any of this was strange. “Where you been?”

With a groan Waylon walked up and leaned against the wall next to Miles. He opened his mouth to explain the situation, only to snap it shut again. Where to start?

“You got that thing going with your hair again,” Miles observed. “Like you’ve been playing hide the hot-dog all night or something.”

Waylon brushed a hand through his hair, trying to tame it while simultaneously ignoring Miles’ snicker.

“God, I wish.” Waylon gave a defeated sigh and leaned his head back. “‘Fraid I’ve just been pulling on it myself.”

“Kinky.” Before Waylon had the chance to explain, Miles spoke again. “So, hey, as much as I love your wreck of a love life, that guy Chris asked if I wanted to tag along on his round today.”

“His round?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Miles’ eyes lit up. “He’s a security guard at that old mental institution up in the mountains.” He rubbed his hands together, not unlike a raccoon about to raid a kitchen cabinet, before he continued. “It’ll be much easier to soak up the history of the place when I don’t gotta hide from the guy.”

“... Hide from him?”

“Long story.” Miles immediately waved him off. “Enough about me, what about you? Will you bedazzle that man of yours in my absence?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Got the motel room all to yourself. You know what they say about dirty motel rooms?”

”Low online ratings?”

“No, silly. They’re fun to make even dirtier.”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Waylon said with a huff, and caught himself before he could start pulling on his hair again. “I managed to slip up.”

“Oooh-ho-ho!” Miles downed his coffee. “He knows you’re Lisa?”

“No.” Waylon paused for a moment, chuckled and shook his head. “It seems whenever I try to clear things up, things get even more _messed_ up instead.”

“You in a nutshell,” Miles agreed. “Remember when you decided to tell Lisa you were gay at her cousin’s wedding, and she thought you were proposing?”

“... Shut up.”

“It’s like you said though, it’s definitely a pattern.” Miles said with a shrug.

“I know.” Waylon shut his eyes tightly. “And I don’t want to mess this up. I really don’t.”

When he opened his eyes it was to the sight of Miles looking at him with a surprisingly mild look on his face.

“You want me to skip the tour today? We could eat some of that ice cream we talked about on our way here.”

Waylon was torn on what to answer. On one side, some ice cream therapy was exactly what he needed, on the other hand…

“You should go,” he finally said. “It’ll be fun. You deserve it.”

Miles’ face split in a wide grin. “I do, don’t I?” he agreed again, and leaned back against the chipped wall behind him. “Chris is a nice guy. Kinda scary, but nice.”

“Yeah.“ Waylon sighed. “I like all of them. I like it here, period. It’s like… we just kinda happened here, and still we fit right in.”

“Hah, I’d love to crack a dick joke right there, but there’s Chris now.” Miles started waving, but made no indication of moving.

Waylon looked in the direction Miles was waving, to Chris’ serious face behind the wheel of a beaten up pickup truck. He stopped the truck right by their feet, rolled down the window and glared out at them.

“Get your ass in gear, lil piggy,” he gruffed, before glancing over at Waylon. “Hey, Waylon. You coming with?”

“H-hey, Chris.” Waylon pulled on his hair. "Nah, I think I'm gonna relax for a bit."

Miles was right, Chris really was scary. Miles didn’t seem to let that deter him, though, he simply sauntered over to the passenger seat, shot Waylon a wide grin, and got in.

Waylon watched them drive off with a detached sense of melancholy. He sighed. The view of the motel parking lot did little to ease his spirit. Perhaps he should go raid a grocery store and eat some ice cream by himself while watching re-runs on TV. For some reason that sounded oddly tempting.

Perhaps he should have just packed his bags and left. Save both himself and Eddie the heartache. Waylon sighed. The ice cream sounded a lot better. Waylon shook his head and smiled, before going into the motel room for his keys and wallet.

Miles’ side of the room looked like it had been obliterated by a bomb; the pillows were on the floor, the bed linens draped halfway over the nightstand, and his suitcase looked like it had thrown up on top of it all. By comparison, Waylon’s was made up and tidy, and he went to fish his wallet and key out from his bedside drawer.

His laptop caught his attention, stored neatly on top of the nightstand. It had collected dust since they came, and he was torn whether or not to let it keep that way.

Talking to Eddie while not being aware of what Eddie believed was one thing, another thing entirely to keep up pretenses. Without realizing, Waylon’s hand had migrated up to his hair, and he found himself pulling on it again.

“This trip is gonna give me a bald spot,” he mumbled to himself, almost startling himself with the sound of his voice in the quiet room.

He touched a finger to the laptop tentatively, thinking back to those blissful days where he thought he had finally found someone. Then he pressed that same finger to his lips, thinking back to Eddie’s face in his apartment; Torn with emotions he didn’t name, and Waylon too afraid to decipher. And the kisses, desperate and cruel.

With a sigh he pulled the laptop off the nightstand and sat down on the bed. He paused for a moment before he turned it off and closed his eyes. Then he ignored his heart and his sanity and logged on to the dating site.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds before Eddie’s name flashed on the screen.

_[EdGluskin67]: Oh, thank God, there you are._

Waylon grimaced and tried to ignore the slight stab of disappointment.

_[Perl2536]: Here I am._

The little pencil indicating that Eddie was typing moved for a long time, then went still. Then it continued again. Waylon watched it stop and start a few more times, before he took pity on the guy.

_[Perl2536]: Are you alright?_

It didn’t take long before Eddie replied.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m not._

Then a slight pause before he continued.

_[EdGluskin67]: Things have happened that we need to address. There’s things I’ve done that you need to be aware of._

Waylon’s heart was pounding against his ribs. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with it if Eddie begged him - begged Perl - for forgiveness. If he begged Lisa for another chance.

_[Perl2536]: What’s wrong?_

Waylon started biting his nails while he waited for Eddie to reply.

_[EdGluskin67]: Where to start._

“Jesus, Eddie,” Waylon mumbled. “Way to stretch shit out.”

It was almost laughable. Here Waylon was, in a questionable motel in the middle of nowhere, trying not to throw up at the prospects of the guy he had unintentionally catfished proclaiming his love for the wrong Waylon.

“Should have gone for ice cream,” Waylon mumbled.

Ah, yes. That was another thing. He had started talking to himself, not just the unconscious hair pulling. Things could only get better from now on, right?

_[EdGluskin67]: Thing is, I’ve always considered myself a very faithful man._

Waylon stared at the words. So there it was. Eddie was gonna apologize and beg for another chance, and Waylon would-

_[EdGluskin67]: We haven’t known each other that long, but I’ve spent that time longing for you, and yet things have happened that have left me deeply ashamed._

He had tried to prepare himself for the words, but Waylon still felt sucker punched.

Deeply ashamed.

Waylon glared at the words with an aching chest. So that was it, then. He swallowed hard a few times and considered just closing the lid.

Deeply ashamed…

Had Waylon been ashamed when he realized he was gay? The only shame he recalled was in breaking Lisa’s heart. He tried to give Eddie the benefit of the doubt. He was born in another time, and from what Frank had told them about Eddie's father, it hadn't been easy on him.

_[EdGluskin67]: Are you there?_

_[Perl2536]: What are you trying to say?_

Again he watched as Eddie wrote, then erased, then wrote again.

_[EdGluskin67]: I’m trying to say that I’ve made a terrible mistake._

So that was it, then. Waylon stared at the words before he finally just slammed the lid shut and held himself back from tossing the whole laptop across the room. It was easier to pretend to be angry, and Waylon punched the mattress with a hissed curse.

A terrible mistake, huh?

Waylon had to leave this place. He started packing hastily, fighting off the bitter lump in his throat that reminded him that this always happened. After zipping up his own luggage, he looked over to Miles’ side with a groan.

Right.

He started shoving things back into the suitcase, ignoring the many questions about said things. He’d rather not know what Miles had intended for some of the items he’d brought. With a grimace he put a latex mask resembling an old woman in one of the side pockets. Definitely not asking about that one.

After packing their bags he left them by the door, before dumping down on the bed.

Nothing to do but wait now.  
  


* * *

  
He woke with a gasp to three sharp knocks to the door. He bolted upright and stared at the time.

Damn it all to hell, he had slept for four hours. Where the hell was Miles? He felt like he was nursing the worst hangover of his life and he rubbed his eyes with a wince. He was still blinking and pawing at his eyes when he made his way for the door.

“Did you forget your spy equipment again?” he groaned, but he didn’t even have the chance to open the door himself, before it got pushed open.

For a few horrifying moments he was unsure if it was a burglar who had somehow sniffed out Miles’ expensive gear, or Eddie out for blood, and he made an embarrassing squeak before he realized who it was.

He supposed burglar was a good choice, all things considered, because Frank really did look desperate enough to rob a fleabag motel. His eyes were wild and his hair and beard scraggly like a frightened cat.

“God-fucking-dammit,” he wheezed. “Thought you left or something.”

“What?” Waylon blinked. “Why?”

“Okay, so…” Frank glanced behind himself before he lowered his voice. “I went over to see how Eddie was doing, he ain’t too used to drinking, and he had the most riveting tale to tell.”

Waylon blanched.

“He told you he kissed me?”

Frank’s eyes got wide.

“He…” He wheezed again. “He kissed you? Dadgum son-of-a-bitch.” He quickly kissed his fingertips and looked up. “‘Scuse me, Mrs. Gluskin, love ya.”

Waylon had gotten more and more convinced that he was hallucinating.

“Where’s Miles?” Frank asked, and peeked over Waylon’s shoulder. “I gotta talk to that little weasel, I gotta-” He looked at Waylon. “Damn, boy, you look like shit. C’mon, lemme get you some pie and coffee. On the house.”

“Pie?” Waylon blinked again. “Does it come with ice cream?”

“As many scoops as you’d like, sonny-boy.”

“Sonny-boy,” Waylon shook his head. “You know you’re not that much older than I am, right?”

“Flatterer. I already said you’d get it on the house, yeah?” Frank beamed. “Let’s go.”  
  


* * *

  
Against the doom and gloom of the hotel room, Frank’s garish diner was a welcomed sight. It was hard to stay upset amidst pink fluorescent lights and crappy pop songs. Frank had immediately put on an apron that had seen better days, and Waylon was reminded about what Eddie had said about the hygiene of the place.

At the sight of apple pie with three solid scoops of ice cream, though, Waylon realized he didn’t care.

“So-o-o,” Frank said, sliding the plate of pie across the counter. “He kissed you, eh?”

“How come all of you guys act like this is some teenage romcom or something?” Waylon shook his head. “You shouldn’t get this excited about a kiss.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Frank winked. “Thirty-five plus is the new adolescence. Besides, it’s _Eddie_ we’re talking about, this is the most drama we’ve had in years. And, he deserves some romance.” Frank pointed at him with a big wooden spoon. “So are you gonna give me the scoop or not?”

“Alright, so-” Waylon poked the ice cream. “- during the party he kissed me. It was nice. Real nice...” Waylon fell into pleasant day dreams before he managed to shake back out of it. "But it wasn't right, y'know? He was so drunk and I decided it was best if I left."

Frank nodded and poured Waylon a cup of coffee with a sympathetic smile. He’d probably make a good bartender.

“So I went over to his house to talk and-” Waylon stuck a piece of pie in his mouth so he didn’t have to speak, too embarrassed to continue. Instead he looked up at Frank with what he imagined was a very childish expression.

“- And Eddie kissed you again?” Frank coaxed. “Or are we talkin’ more here, Waylon?”

Okay, so stuffing his face with food was definitely a bad idea, because Frank’s grin grew wider.

“We are, aren’t we?” He leaned forward again. “Did he play on your skin flute?”

Waylon chewed faster, frantically.

“Oh, even more?” Frank whistled. “Did he try to bang your balloon knot?”

Waylon choked on the pie.

“Hah!” Frank grinned. “Nothing wrong with going Greek, if you know what I mean.”

“We did not!” Waylon said indignantly, his throat raw. “I managed to let something slip, and Eddie told me to leave.”

“Something slip?”

“I told him his…” Waylon felt heat rising in his cheeks. “That his chest felt as good as the picture he sent looked.”

“Hah!” Frank’s eyes were actually sparkling by that point. “So you got to second base!”

“Yeah, well…” Waylon sucked in a breath. “I talked to him online today, as Perl, and he-” Waylon huffed. “- Said he’d made a mistake.”

At that Frank’s expression immediately changed and his eyebrows drew together.

“Miles is out with Chris right now,” Waylon continued. “But when he comes back I’m gonna tell him I wanna go back to Denver.”

“What a load of crap!” Frank cried, slamming the wooden spoon against the counter. There was a young couple who entered the diner just then, and they just quietly turned and shut the door behind them again. “I saw Eddie earlier and there’s no freaking way he’d-” Frank cut himself off and blew his cheeks up until he looked utterly constipated. Then he smiled a smile so fake that it even rivaled his ‘authentic’ 50s diner. “Enjoy your pie, eh, Waylon? I just gotta restock the lobsters or something, be right back.”

With that he scurried off into the next room, leaving Waylon with a mixture of confusion and fear. He craned his neck to peek through into the kitchen. Frank wouldn’t get Eddie over here, would he? Waylon stuffed more ice cream into his mouth and frowned.

Frank came back out after just a moment, carrying a bottle of chocolate syrup. “Can’t have ice cream without chocolate, right?” he grinned.

“Thought you said you were restocking lobsters?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin the surprise.” Frank scratched his head before he handed Waylon the bottle.

Waylon accepted it with one eye narrowed in suspicion. “You didn’t call Eddie, did you?”

“Eddie? No, I didn’t call… Eddie.” Frank cleared his throat.

Waylon stared up at him for a few moments still, before he turned his attention back to his pie and ice cream. “I’m really sorry about it all, because I’ve really come to like all of you.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, and this time his smile was pale and thin. “Feeling’s mutual, y’know? You guys fit right in.”

A thought occurred to Waylon just then.

“You said Eddie had a riveting tale to tell,” he said, and Frank turned bright pink. “Why did you think I had left?”

“Oh.” Frank scratched his head again, before he pulled on his beard in a way that slightly mimicked what Waylon did to his own hair. “Intuition?”

Waylon shot him another skeptical look.

“I’m just saying that I don’t think that Eddie meant it that way.” Frank watched as Waylon drenched his ice cream in chocolate syrup. “I think you oughta hear him out, alright?”

“You’re a nice guy, Frank, but I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

“You have, huh?” Frank gave him a long sideways glance, before coaxing his face into something slightly resembling a beaten dog. “You’ll stay at the diner for a while longer, won’t you? Keep me company?” He blinked at Waylon.

“I will,” Waylon said, cementing the deal with the first genuine smile of the day. “Have to finish my pie too.”

“Great,” Frank said and plopped another scoop of ice cream on Waylon’s plate. "Tell me more about that kiss, will ya?"


	19. Eddie

Eddie had always considered himself an intelligent man, yet sometimes he had an absolutely uncanny ability to muck things up.

He stared at the screen, at the conversation with Lisa that had been interrupted the day before. She had yet to respond. Perhaps she had figured it what he had meant from what little he had said. His stomach ached. He’d meant what he’d told her, he did considering himself a faithful man, yet everything seemed to have gone wrong in the past week.

With a sigh, Eddie leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face. How could something that had started out so wonderful, have turned out so confusing? He pulled out his wallet, where, protected by plastic, was the picture of Lisa. He pulled it out and looked at it. At Lisa’s beautiful smiling face. Then he unfolded it and looked at Waylon’s face. Something churned inside him at the sight of it, and he tried to ignore the images flashing through his mind.

Waylon’s thighs, spread open for him. His eyes, pale and soft, yet darkened in arousal. Waylon’s warm, soft mouth…

Eddie shook his head.

The Waylon in the picture looked carefree and happy, with longer hair than he had now, and Eddie couldn’t decide which he liked better. He could imagine how the longer hair would be perfect to grasp ahold of and- Eddie squeezed his eyes together.

It was easy to lose himself completely in the thought of him. Too easy. Just like before.

Part of him had wondered if he had responded to Waylon the way he had because of his past.

It was funny how things had faded in his mind, intentional perhaps. He could no longer remember the name of the first person he’d thought he loved, only how silky his blond hair had felt under Eddie’s fingers, and the intensity of the desperate kisses they’d shared.

Most of all he remembered his father’s angry, spiteful words and the bruises he’d nursed after being caught. And then the pain of never speaking again. He still didn’t know how his father had convinced the other family to move, but move they had.

With that in mind, Eddie leaned over the keyboard again.

_[EdGluskin67]: Did something happen last night? You disappeared so quickly._

Perhaps she was in an area with a faulty connection. A thought occurred to him. What if she was on her way to Leadville? The mountains could surely account for a bad connection.

_[EdGluskin67]: Are you there? We really need to talk._

How could he even tell her? Eddie’s skin prickled. How could he tell her he had kissed her brother? Touched him? It was going to be uncomfortable, he knew that much. He was about to write something more when there were three hard knocks on his front door.

Now, Eddie wasn’t proud of it, but for a moment he froze completely, staring the the direction of the door with something akin to terror. Then he realized that it was the side entrance, and that Waylon had yet to use that one.

One of his friends, then.

At least he felt lighter when he was away from the computer, and he made his way for the backdoor. He was surprised to see Chris on the other side of the blinds, glancing off to the side.

“Chris?” Eddie said as he opened the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Got done early.” Chris kept glancing to the side, until he finally looked at Eddie. “So,” he started. “D’have any plans for today?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said, and then silence stretched on between them until he felt he had to fill it. “Why?”

“So you’re definitely staying home today?”

“Yes.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “You’re making me a little uneasy,” he continued. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, no reason.” Chris’ face was emotionless. “Thought maybe I could stop by later. Y’know, we could catch up.”

“Catch up,” Eddie echoed. “Sure.”

“Reckon you got a lot to talk about after…” Chris suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Anything you need from the store?”

“I’m good, thank you.” Eddie cocked his head. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Me? Never better.”

Eddie stared at him. Chris was definitely acting strange, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say the big guy had suffered a stroke or something similar. Chris stood silently for a moment longer before he spoke again.

“See ya later, Eddie,” he said, but he stood his ground despite it.

“Alright.” Eddie tried to hide the confusion no doubt showing on his face. “See you.”

Eddie took a step back, but he wasn’t sure if he should just close the door between them, or wait until Chris started on the staircase down to the street below. So instead he just stared at Chris, while Chris stared right back.

Then, finally, Chris tipped his head. “Don’t go anywhere, alright? I’ll be back in a little.” And with that he finally left, leaving Eddie totally perplexed.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that it sounded like a threat.  
  


* * *

  
When Eddie returned to his desk, it was to Perl’s name flashing at the bottom of the screen. He had to take a few deep breaths of air before he sat down and opened the chat window.

_[Perl2536]: Hey there, big guy ;)_

‘Big guy’? Eddie blinked. He supposed her mood had improved since the previous day, but the happy tone paired with the winking smiley face had him feel a bit uneasy. Unless that was just the remnants of the conversation with Chris.

_[EdGluskin67]: Hello._

Then, with an uncomfortable groan, he kept writing.

_[EdGluskin67]: We were interrupted yesterday, but there really are things we need to discuss._

_[Perl2536]: Yeah, I agree ;)_

Again with the winking smiley face. Eddie stared at it. So she was feeling better, then? She hadn’t said anything to why she had just disappeared the previous day, nor did it seem like she would. The little pencil was moving again, indicating that she was at least still there.

_[Perl2536]: That’s why I think we should meet._

Leaning back in his chair, Eddie looked at the words that would have meant the world to him just a week back. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it now. In fact, he felt a bit queasy. How could he tell the woman he’d wanted to marry that he-

_[Perl2536]: How about outside the Lake County Recreation Department?_

Eddie creased his forehead. Lake County Recreation Department? He didn’t know what he had envisioned, but he supposed it was a nice enough place. It had lush green lawns and shaded areas for sitting, if nothing else. Awfully public, though, but he supposed a woman would prefer it that way.

_[EdGluskin67]: On Harrison Ave?_

_[Perl2536]: Yeah. There’s some nice benches there. Perfect for a nice long chat ;)_

Well, Eddie rather doubted it would be a nice chat, but it was a much needed one. He breathed out heavily through his mouth.

_[EdGluskin67]: Alright. When?_

It didn’t even take five seconds before she responded, as if she’d had it already written out.

_[Perl2536]: Tomorrow at noon?_

Tomorrow. So she really was on her way over, then. Eddie stared at the screen with conflicting emotions. Could they ever resume a relationship after what Eddie had done? He’d spent so long fantasizing about how life would be with her, and now the prospect of meeting her terrified him. How would Waylon react to her coming? Did he even know?

Lisa with her innocent eyes and contagious smile. Lisa, whose brother had-

_[EdGluskin67]: Noon it is._

He wrote it quickly, lest he change his mind.

_[Perl2536]: It’s a date! ;)_

Eddie stared at the words. So carefree and happy, just like she was. Eddie wished he’d feel as light as she no doubt did, and not filled with dread.

“It’s a date,” he echoed, feeling hollow.


End file.
